Don't Move

You apologoze for things to come

that never come

I still wait

You asked to

put your arm around me

You spend time

thinking of words

but don't speak

I try to sort you out

to read you

but it seems

your paged have been burned 

and tattered your self hatred

Written in a language I don't know 

and you can't even recall

the words that were once spelled out clearly

on clean white pages

I used to think you didn't move

I used to watch you

I see now

You can move more 

without moving

You are the safety net

catching my fall

when I carefully tiptoe around my emotions

and my mistakes

and slip in the pools of tears

You are a glass

from which I drink in

each precious word

like water in the desert

to build the structure of my being

so that I  might finally have the means to tell you

With that same soft whisper

The whisper of a movement you made

when you went to hold my hand

And you've moved more in me

without moving.