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when i try to walk away from her, i stumble.
when i try to hide, she smiles at me
in the mirrors and hidden places,
in the heat of this april night.


so many memories to not remember,
so many things to not say.
when i pick up the phone,
it's always her number
i stop myself from dialing.
she lives in the little things;
she is the pause before i smile.

if only i could stay silent.

but the words filter through the film on my eyes,
through the silences and the nights of wanting,
pushing against a wall with the strength of need
and sadness, and the mind numbing pain of loss and
memory

she lives in every line of my hands,
in the stillness of the leaves before rain.
she lives in the little things;
she is the pause before
i fall.

4/22/2000
11:15pm