By Tricia
Date: 16 October 1999

Life Line

It’s early, the morning after,
you’re still lost 
to your dreams,
so I’ll gather my things
and try not to wake you.

Why does the morning light
slice through your window 
with a surgeon’s precision to
sever our newfound bonds?

I don’t know why 
I stumble over these words
you need to hear aloud.
They strangle in my throat 
before they reach my lips.
Maybe I’m afraid 
you won’t return 
the sentiments, or maybe
I’m afraid you will.

So I wrote this note,
as my heart kept pace
with the cadence 
of this keyboard
typing these words 
in telekinetic sync 
from my heart, to my head, 
to my hands, to the keys…
to the screen, to your eyes,
to your heart.
I love you.