She sits behind 4 plates of glass
watching the clouds and the
colors separate in the sky;
waiting with eyes big
like harvest moons and
a heartbeat stifled like
gunshots from blocks away.
5 full thoughts from fragile
she's obsessed with the
concept of space and what
too much of it can do to a person
and I left my own philosophies
on the subject, written in code
across the back of her knuckles
tapped out like biorhythms in perfect time.
I've got strong hands built entirely of
ink where I hold a strange heart
and I'm learning to rewire
my nature with hers so we can
coexist on the same planes simultaneously;
I watch her pinch the bridge of her nose
and I'm cleaning and adjusting
the pair of glasses that sit comfortably
on mine, allowing me to see
the spaces between our shared syllables
and I'm synchronizing our watches
to the pace that we fall into naturally
breaths held like tongues and
left in our lungs to be forgotten.