I Think You Are... My Answer

How my breath aches

For a trace

Of the paragraphs she left behind --

They linger in the wind...

They rustle leaves --

They pass through pupils...

Extract tears

And what they mean.

A spectrum of fears


And safeguarded

In her palm...

Closed up.

Fist to the stars�


What intersection

Did I cross tonight

To leave me

Under the gloss

Of your shine

And light divine?


How did I ever make

A distant yearning

Something tangible,

So close, it's burning?


What do I do with

The clay you have given me,


Mold a sticky monument

To the ways we'll stay together.

If I gave you a cup,

Would you pour into it

Through emotional funnels

My lines liquefied?

And if I gave you a palette,

Could you capture the colors

That bleed from my eyes?

Accept my token --

Modest in all its approach

And broken existence,

But let me get close,

And you'll see

How it sews up

The unending distance...

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