Lost Together

She does not like to be alone; lonely
sits on her shoulders, whispers in her ear,
blankness lays beside her.  She doesn’t need
small-talk, banter; and she has batteries
for that solitary release in the dark.
It’s the understanding silence of him
she misses; the partner who trusts her look
his way, the unspoken rush he gives her
when they touch accidentally, bare flesh
brushing memories of a recent kiss
to the surface, that guides her hand to his
without words. The eloquence of his eyes
swallowing the world around them – quiet
in a crowd, both of them lost together.



The Balcony

Without fancy work or a gargoyle face,
she’s almost non-descript, borders on plain.
Clinging to the edge, she squints through the trees
not tall enough to fully block her view.
Vines grow, climbing to entangle themselves
about her, hiding her from passersby
who explore the city searching out love.
When spring buds unfurl blossoms, shielding
lovers who venture out to perch above
Paris streets, she holds court to their whispers;
secrets and laughter kept between the three.
She has played witness to joy and anger;
been baptized in tears of rage and passion.
She is the silent partner in their lives.