If only she could listen to the silence,

And sit in that stillness.

Recall who she must have been

When she found comfort in the not knowing.

I would bring her back before me,

When she stood in front

Of all that nothingness

And was a part of it.

If only she could see the dreams

In the wrinkled sheets,

Instead of the bed that needs to be made.

Can I gift you the mischief

In the tears in the knees,

By taking away

The holes to patch?

Will you take time

This time

To trust that this one place

Is everywhere?

Would you believe me

If I promised you that your story

Remains unwritten,

And that all that you don’t know

Is who you really are