Alphabet Soup Minuscule

J.C. Scheff


We don’t speak of this gap between us. Or the miles between our breath–
The same breath that dances on the napes of necks, shoulders. While
blowing softly, a wisp of hair away from the corner of a lip.
It too, sits bare, unnoticed.


How can one be so content, and yet empty at the same moment?
How can your heart pound in my ear,
Yet, you be a thousand miles away.
Somewhere I can’t ever fully reach you, or know you.
Even though, I so desperately want to.

We both felt it, I think.
This hushed cleansing.
We swallowed it up with the morning sun, along with the dust blowing in our faces.
Perhaps this emptying is good.
A start to something bigger.







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