and there is just silence

I am feeling the sweet things, the moments where soft voices merge
and we’re whispering in the dark, with lilies and the sound of old trees
sighing against the wind.

In the in-between time, the familiar pieces of myself jangling jarringly against the other pieces of me.
I have no peace with myself.
We’re wearing sweaters with holes in too many places but I’m okay with the lack of patches:
it lets the sunlight in.
Stand outside with the breeze blowing south and drawing me towards the promise of something. Reflections strike our eyes.
I’ve fallen into the solid forgiveness of knowing without a reason.