Sometimes, I feel like
letting go of knees,
arms, neck and spine.
Like red satin splayed
across the floor,
the light embracing its folds.

I found a pebble today
and tomorrow, I will drop it in your bag.

One day, when you are
lying alone on your floor
and your skin
feels like smooth, white plastic,
you will find this pebble
lying beside you.

One day, when you are
fighting someone to save your life,
this pebble will fly out
of your wild hair,
and land in that person's eye.

And every time you look at me
this pebble will itch,
stuck in the folds of the dresses
covering your body.

You might flick it away then,
but you will never notice
that at home, it will lie
quietly between your shoes
and give you company.

Today, your eyes were pools.
I took a careful dip,
and it burst open
the levee in me.

Today, your fingertips were candy.
I drooled at their sight
like a child, unassuming,
about the wonders of life.

Today, your smile was fresh.
Like a fresh sprinkle
of salt, on my paper-cut fingers,
after all those words about you,
I had frantically put down.

I’d tell you the truth,
but I’ll save it for tomorrow.

Your memory is young
but it walks on crutches towards me.

I remember
your raven hair
the most, amidst all your
drowning grandeur.

I see your hair,
bound in your eyes,
flowing in your thoughts.

It is like a dense, dark forest,
nobody ever goes there.

The birds in my heart
are chirping,
orchestrating
their last song.

Don’t let it end.

There might be some truth
in the beauty of my images,
my imagination, my savior
from enjoying lovelessness
too much.

There might be a kind of
person who
would mirror my thoughts
in a different skin
and that could be bliss.

There might be a field,
wide and sunny, with
the armor of intellect
crashing with purpose,
both so strong,
the ground never shakes,
never moves.

An image.
Frightening, how perfect it is.