I hate sitting on this star
when your not making it shine,
and I hate exhaling when your not breathing me in.

Words are all I have to get under your skin
and teach you my touch, but I don't know that you feel it.

We are not speaking
though the distance weighs nothing this morning.
I'm not swallowing ships,
so I can't be choking on waves.

[Why is it that this fails
to glide through your window?]

I can't read your poetry
so I make you into poems.
But no matter how many different ways
I fold you into all the letters of the alphabet
I can't make it sound any louder.

I know paper has no voice
but love should have brought it to life.

...I'm sorry
to have faltered,

To have stumbled in front of you.