here again is that anticipated
when of you,
more of if than of ever
and I tell myself I can picture
your bare feet
on my floorboards
convince myself I wouldn’t mind
the invasion
of my space – its sanctity
overrun by the solid reality
of an other
sweeping aside the silent hours
for tangible skin –
currently irrelevant
in intangible when
© Sarah Whiteley
these are the intangible lines
I never could write
the frail dance of words
never choreographed
except in deep-seated night
where words do not recognize
the boundaries of pen and paper
these are the rhymes unuttered
from feeble lips to fearful ears
the silent syllables
content to remain unsaid
for the heart beats them
repeats them
an inner anthem of grief,
of joy, of trial, of love,
of peace
these are the intangible lines
I never did write
© Sarah Whiteley
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