Thursday, January 13, 2011

I cannot drink too much,

You make me feel so empty sometimes,
because you're so full of everything.
You're full of words and ideas and honest-to-god faithfulness.
You're full to the brim with tears,
big, salty, warm tears that go splash when they land.

You are full, so full in fact
that you over-swell the cup at times.
You flood and you flow and you drench me in your sweetness.
And afterward, when I've been set out to dry,
and your essence is evaporating away, away from me
I try and snatch back what I can from the theiving air.
Like a child I cling to the promises, the dreams and ceremonies.
For fear, for worry, for enduring promise.

You're so full, when you're not trying to fill me.

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