Trying to see her for myself

in a crowd of strangers.

I’m over here,

trying to get close again.

I can’t quite move forward,

there’s too much glass on the floor

and I swore I swept earlier before.

Trying to avoid the shards now,

I can’t quite afford getting cut on this

her deliberate voice today.

The ground doesn’t matter anymore.

Glass unswept or otherwise,

her voice hasn’t changed, still stubborn.

Softer in other tones,

I’m always wanting to get close to her,

cautious of the impassable corners.

Caught up in getting caught up for now

I can’t imagine walking away from her,

time sits underneath the skin.

These scars of love sit so guarded and

it’s not like how we were when young

pretending on having this future life.

Suddenly the floor has washed away.

We have so much more life to support,

maybe all I ever missed in her

was the voice in her after all.