*

"I will find you"
he said.
The words rung familiar,
 they tagged at a memory
of another life
another me.
"After February,
I'll come see you."
A promise told
by one that loved me,
one that didn't.
Neither found me in the end.

Prelude to the storm

It's been too quiet
for too long
I'm getting too restless
my breath catches in my throat,
it's like waiting for an invisble blow
to land.

If I break my own ribs
will I get out?
If I break someone's heart
will I breathe now?

I shut down the blinds,
I shut out everything except my mind.

I am ready for the storm
I've been expecting it since the long calm arrived.
I need it
to get my blood pumping again.