Tuesday, April 12, 2016


I want to say you are beautiful, but
it is not right. I want to touch
that sadness, there is something
in the hardness of the wire that defines
the shape of an eye looking away.

Can you remember when
your fingertips didn’t turn blue
under the weight of air?
There is something missing
in the rotation. Something isn’t flush.
It’s okay to lie.

I want to remember my body
before I knew I had one; before
time was doubt and desire.
I want to remember the sound
of a hand cupped over my ear;
what potential means.
I want to remember you.



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