I went to Starbucks to write—and I'm on Twitter
Tonight, loneliness was palpable.
The emptiness after a good conversation
with someone far away makes the silence
more noticeable. I wanted to curl into you—
sing you songs of the ocean at sunset, tell you
about the queen palm trees I heard in her voice.
And you—you are not even seven miles from me.
In these late hours I feel like there are continents
between us. I try to hold in my hands the things you
don’t say—the worries and wounds you bury
in your brain and bones. I wonder why you stay
away in the dark. When you sleep next to me,
you find a peace we both cling to—I’m never afraid.
Marisa Silva-Dunbar is a New Mexican poet. Her work has been published in Dark Marrow, Dear Reader, work to a calm, Chanterelle’s Notebook, and Marias At Sampaguitas. She graduated from the University of East Anglia with her MA in poetry. Marisa is a contributing writer at Pussy Magic. She has work forthcoming in The Charles River Journal, and Apathy Press. Marisa is the founder and EIC of Neon Mariposa Magazine.