You're ready, you say, oddly proud
take
my face in your hands before you draw
ceremonially
two lines with *******, two lines of white on each of my cheeks, nodding earnestly
smiling ever so warmly as if saying
I'll be only a few steps behind, if not closer for now
all the time
my eyes ask of you
all the time yes all the time your presence
answers, reassures
and I detach
not detach
and take a step forward into the snow
the cold where I can see my breath forming clouds
and it is not cold at all
it is not cold

Standing proudly now in his
purple silk-dress, tall
and lifting
the sky on his back
come on,
he says
I think I am allowed
what an untypical sight he makes;
that proud face lacking
all signs of arrogance

How does the light work
Says the bird to the other
And does it hurt to get
Caught in its radiance

Bleeding hands,
dear rub
your  face
analyse over and over
       what is there to ask but
one thing:
do you
really wanna cling to this
do you

something I do not want to share
stares right at you
but hides at the same time because
I told it so -
because it cannot just spill out yet
flow
through my unshielded skin
[calling you out]
before I'm ready to
invite you in again

Tugging tirelessly
at your sleeve tapping
on your shoulder knee
heart
the beat that keeps
repeating
grow
through it grow
break
the limitation

The same sun
that gives life
to a chrsyanthemum
a red rose, a vine
climbing a live oak
also cast shadows
against pale stones
and tall white walls
of a mausoleum.