What holds us together

What holds us together, for all the space between each piece, where does one puzzle begin and the other inverted soul stop?

By which piece do they divide? I stop my hand from touching you, I know that my quick, sharp nipples rise and breathe already upon your softwhite salad porcelained body.

Someone stamps my hand, I watch… turn… and fail to see that the reflection in the mirror is me. Through that soft press I am within my self and _choking ^choking for the mercy of small gaps 

that makes me never you nor me

The Postman

None of us write letters any more

Yet I watch the post with pious belief

We are waiting for a phone call

A simple reply

Waiting to come home

For the rain to stop

We are all waiting for something

For something within; something beyond

 

Waiting for someone to stand up for me

To take the fall

Waiting for the beauty within the war

To stand up and dive in

For someone to win

For us both to lose

Waiting for those forever friends

 

Waiting for the zig to zag

To know you’re going straight

Will you wait for me if I am coming

Will you wait for me if I do not

Would you wait without an answer

I wait and hope we meet again

But there are places where waiting does not play

For in some small spaces there is no time and no delay