he crept in stealthily
like the first chill wind on a hot
summers morning
beads of sweat knead deep into
my furrows, if that was love
it was the last thing i'd expect

holding my heart in his hands
the coil of fingers trace colour into
every breath, inh-ale, exh-ale, inh-ale;
if rainbows had a name before
we existed, it would have been his
ale, pale blue ale

there is a culture in Tokyo
where men collectively dress and
suit.it.up.
beneath the glamour lies a vast
arctic tundra
ale smiles, my heart blushes

light envelopes as i open my eyes on
the plane bound for goodbye
my heart, a locomotion
derailed with its wreckage left behind
the comforting sounds of solitude
stung my ears with such fortitude
ja mata ne