little bumps
occasional texts
inside jokes
subtle sparks
tiny smiles
sudden kisses

and then

nothing

someone will come along
or maybe you'll come by again

i will remember you

(i)
in your onitsuka shoes you were wearing when we reunited at taipei main station after three weeks of silence

(ii)  
in your old hoodie walking back toward me resiliently in the rain to give me an eskimo kiss after i repeatedly told you to leave

(iii)
in your skin that you slept in till dawn while beside you i wept from sheer fear of losing you

(iv)
in your spontaneity leaning into me leaning into you while we sang our thoughts to the waves crashing below us

(v)
in your unbridled passion when you kissed me for the very first time in the dark

*i will remember you

i want to be
your 6pm
dinner date
and then
your 6am
hushed kisses

i want to be both

we could go round the clock

those crinkles in your eyes
when you smile
or laugh uncontrollably

that knowing look
when you turn to check
to see if i'm having fun

these times when it's just us
and i love it
but i don't know what you think

this little bubble between us
of almost closeness
that i wish i could burst

been there on both sides of the coin but what can i do
(i had plans that flew a continent away)
but stare blankly helplessly unknowingly at my palms
(an empty void that love used to fill)
and witness their light trembles and deep sprawling lines
(knowing i could never be as good as the standards i establish)
phantom tears leaking from the corners of my eyes
(years of battle have fractured this heart numb)
this body is incapable of promises and pretence
(if you were in my head you'd probably run)
just holding a part-time job checking into reality
(i spend too much time wondering)
denying an early end and praying for less permanent way out