She stretched her sleeves to cover them.
The knife cut deep on her scarred thighs.
I said I didn't mind that she hurt
Herself. Still, the hand covered the bruise.

She ate little. The mirror scoffed
Still. "Fine!" I'd say. "I'll eat alone."
I said I didn't mind that she starved
herself. Still, the hand covered the bruise.

I wish I pulled her hand.
I wish I didn't just speak.
Lately I can't eat too.
My hand covers the bruise.

possibility of death,

so nerve-wracking−

unfinished movies,half-eaten meals

days and nights ahead,blank−

Little birds

Little trails into a soul setting sun    
Little birds into a Cairo view  
Through the doorways of blue tiled mansion walks  
Plays a karyokinesis tune    
    
Splitting by an eye wink    
Spitting haze into Set    
And to dream of this un reality    
With out the microscopic oblivion    
    
Held perversions of dreams    
Of when you....    
    
Dot dot dot... so clearly    
That I    
    
Twisted in dance there    
With sheer red skirts    
Go round and round    
So lost in it    
    
That I...    
    
Had forgotten to un break    
Had forgotten the edges of my smile    
    
I smell a peculiar scent    
And I shrug incense from my posture    
    
My awaiting stance holds little promise    
And is full of dilution    
My synapses spark    
A nights view from lost doorways    
To golden alleys that fail to exist    
    
Anymore    
The little birds sing  
    
Anymore    
Through tiled windows    
And sheer skirts    
    
Fragrant plumes like feathers    
Whip soft cotton air    
To travel    
And torture and sift away    
    
To split and turn my actuality’s notion of romance    
Into particles like dust