verb ink

When Silence was Golden

Quaint periods bless lively days
thankful my mind apologizes with itchy energy
for bewildered reactions blink slanted sight

brief stress challenges numerous obligations
as feelings string support through helpless moods
and victorious compensation welcomes panicky grandparenthood

sweet favors whisper beautiful escape
with glorious release, a small triumph


The thing about you is that you were so good at sounding like you actually had plans for us, and the thing about me is that I was so good at believing that I was on your mind. Every time you talked, I always looked at you wide-eyed, in love and hopeful, and you’d be lying if you say that you didn’t know that I’d go all the way for you. Always. Any time. Any chance I get. You didn’t even have to ask. And you’d be lying if you say that you didn’t know how much it’d break me when I finally realize that you were never serious about me, about us–that all those plans you’ve made for us, they were just for when you needed something to help you convince me that you wanted me in your future, that I wasn’t just something you needed for you to be happy in the present. It does hurt a lot to realize all this just now, but I know that I’d rather be alone than be with someone who’s just so damn good with words but never with actions.
—  Irally Cariaso, I Needed A Verb
imbricate

[im-bri-keyt] 

(adj.) can also be used as (v.) 1. overlapping in sequence, as tiles or shingles do. 2. of or relating to any decoration or pattern resembling this. 3. characterized by or as if by overlapping shingles. 4. to decorate with a repeating pattern resembling scales or shingles.

The stout, plump leaves of the echeveria plant form an imbricate rose-like pattern.

gentle, adjective;
mild in temperament or behavior, kind or tender
the way your fingertips felt like paintbrushes on my canvas of a cheekbone,
creating nothing less than a Van Gogh every time you touched me,
the way our bodies moved together beneath the moonlight that filtered through the slits in the blinds,
anyone else would have thought we were dancing

arrogant, adjective;
having or revealing an exaggerated sense of one’s own importance or abilities
the way you looked at me and saw a broken mirror,
a warped reflection of yourself that you needed to chip away at,
mold into something you could put on paper,
carve into something that looked good only on paper

empathy, noun;
the ability to understand and share the feelings of another
the way you cupped your hands, tried to catch all of the heartache pouring out of me,
held it up to your ear like a seashell and told me you understood the sound the waves made as they crashed upon the shore,
but you didn’t realize that it wasn’t about the coming together,
instead it was the sending away that kept me up at night

pride, noun;
an inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity or superiority
the way you clung to your institutionalized identity like a newborn clinging to his mother’s finger, fast asleep in her arms,
not necessarily afraid to let go but unaware that if he did, he would be okay
that if he unclenched his small fist even for a moment, he would be okay

love, noun/verb/adjective;
the way you looked me in the eyes the night you left and told me you were doing it because you loved me,
because I loved you,
because this is what you needed,

the way you asked me to change everything about myself as if my soul were a ball of clay,
asked me to sculpt it so that it would look more like yours and called it love,
called it caring about me,
called it saving me

the way you looked at me the same way I assume Adam used to look at Eve,
with admiration, adoration, and longing,
still knowing that she rose from his rib,
believing that she needed him to feel whole ignoring the fact that he had to lose a rib to bring her into existence,
pretending he can breathe without her,
knowing that he could not breathe without her,
afraid of what he would do without her
so instead he clipped her wings
sanded down her shoulder blades
poured cement in her shoes
so he’d never have to find out

—  you, noun; || s.c.l.