As a person with a somewhat anxious attachment style, I sometimes struggle with silence. Does lack of communication mean lack of interest? Am I on the verge of being discarded? I am ever a work in progress.


Wondering

Do you think of me
in the quiet pauses of your day,
when work loosens its grip,
when you stop to eat or walk the dogs,
when you finally close your eyes
and drift toward dreams?

Do you wonder how I’m doing
as the days slip past?
Do you miss me
in the hush of our distance,
as night turns into day,
and day returns to night?

Can you feel my hand in yours,
my body curved into your arm,
at rest, at peace?

The logic of easing into this
is undeniable.
Outside factors
influence current decisions.

Yet moments tick by,
our bodies weaken,
our time shortens.

Each day
turns into night
then returns to day.

So what do we do
when reason makes sense,
when caution feels wise,
but time will not wait,
and twilight
edges closer?

Do you think of me
as I do you?




Poetry by Melinda K Zarate The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 133 times
Written on 2025-09-11 at 17:51

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