like yellow flowers
on faded dreams
you came to me
gently,
with the soothing voice
of a sweaty spring
thank you, old friend
for being able to be
dark enough to see
the hidden light
in me

i will not go into the times we shared
asphyxia and summer air
juxtaposed to form
an inseparable pair

who am I, old friend
when the ship´s horn blares
if you made me who I am
(if you made me scarce)

like yellow flowers
on faded dreams
you left me
softly, without
any warning of
the lack of color
(there would be)
without your splendor

Breathe in slow
enough to hear
his voice - ichor
dripping from beneath

his lips sewn
with incessant thoughts
of the looming
shadows that he sees

at night, with heavy

gasps
drawn deep within
his lungs, he dreams
he's awake

Ah, now I remember.
It was in those rare moments when you say something different.
Words weave in and out of your lips
but your eyes have the freshly stitched smile
like that of a child
listening to their favorite bed-time story.
Satin slips from your mouth,
wrapping around the beating murmurs
below my necklace
triangle yantra of Kali,
under a lacy leopard bra,
beneath the tattooed deviant octopus,
and soothes the palpitations
to a comfortable pause.
We don't always need air to **breathe.