Speaking Love.

I have done with Speaking Love.
Speaking Love is just talk
and talk can’t be
seen
touched
trusted.

I want love
visceral
running through my fingers
firm under my feet
barging its undeniable way
into my life.

Pretty words are a
start,
but I can’t wrap them
around me
when the cold world
makes me shiver.

Give me love
dark
brutal
tangible.
Give me love I can
sink my teeth into,
feel its teeth sink into me.

Words have their place,
flights of fancy whisking me
away from the
harsh reality
grounding me
here.

It’s nice to get away
sometimes,
to feel like the truth
isn’t the truth, like the pain
doesn’t hover over my shoulder
always.

But when the words
cease
and the silent night
sits heavy on my chest and
breath labors against
its bonds

it’s not Speaking Love
will pull off the chains,
rub my wrists,
wipe my tears,
pull me into arms and hold me
till I stop shaking.

It’s not Speaking Love
will walk beside me
carrying the
anvil of my heart
day in
day out.

It’s not Speaking Love
will skip ahead sometimes,
clearing obstacles
I’ll never even know
were laying in wait
to trip me up.

It’s not Speaking Love
will give
enough of itself
to make space for
taking some of me
in sacred return.

So, I have done with Speaking Love.
Speaking Love is just talk.