that night, in the gold light of the parking lot
we spoke with three different languages
it was a time of Winter words
where we could easily eliminate speech
if only we could find it in ourselves to do so
we were separated from the textures
our roots were eager to connect
but we kept to our respective sides
I was hoping to keep the letter sealed
I was hoping you would feel the same
somehow my hands stayed fixed
I wanted to know you by each breath
to count a thousand flowers in your eyes
you wondered why I kept my stare to the floor
to my hands, to my breath
there was a brief moment there,
where I was still at the top of the railing
leaning over with hands gripping tight
beneath me there were hundreds
an orchestra of human movement
each strand of hair toyed with the idea
and maybe there, just for an instant
I was one of those flowers in your eyes



*I would later admit that I missed you too