~
She stands on the roof of the world, a ship in a bottle. She likes to wave at passing boats, inviting 120 volts to raise their sails.

Words unbosomed -- her attempt of blotting out the sun and those bloodletting habits.

Her eyelids say, "Only the disquieting muses have time for me." So she writes like an umbrella, shading reality; remembering pluck and luck stories about bumblebees, lovingly wrapped in Tiffany-blue ribbon and paper.

Father used to solve her every contemplation. Now indecisiveness in what she asks. Now indecisiveness in arbitrary tasks.

And she and her negative capability are the last two awake at a slumber party, giving commonplace words the allure of secrecy.

You see, she is only harmless when she sleeps.
~

We were always a speck of dust in the collective breathing of the universe that permeated into celestial bodies. Two dancing cosmic eggs birthed from the paroxysm of the dying stars and suspended in the vortex of nothingness along with the rogues. Somewhere along the plethora of this unnamed greatness we delve in, I know that someone like you, in all the multifaceted universes, can make someone like me stop and stare at the oblivious things – as if it weren't there just waiting for me to notice.

We were always two laughing faces in the heat of bodies packed together—separable. Two heavenly bodies whose stories to tell were only unbosomed by synodic conjunction or an eclipse. We are the whispers of our own past with windups somewhere underneath the sulky skies, but every night together is the epoch of the two lovers dancing within us — heartily swaying with the music of temerarious fancies between a scared lad and a lonely maiden.

We were always just like this.
Too close, yet too far.