We have decided to ignore
the truth we discovered,
that our desire was for each
to want the mystery
we cannot find within
ourselves
So uncolor me please,
withdraw those brown shades
you mixed into my irises
to look at and the
gradients of peach
and maroon softer
than my blood, finally
take back that purple sky
so all within my empty lines
is once again unbounded
I am selfish and how
I want to crumble in
your hands that held
me so well, hunched
over the mystery
as I am
A memory is a face, dressed
you’re strolling over a lawn
about to speak, in my dreams
I fold within your hands
pressed to your belly and
I want to know somehow
the sinews of your neck
how you could never
know yourself
Coiled like Escher’s hands
we could try again despite
our fear and draw so lightly
gentle as a careful lie
but I know I would
slip like a tongue
into your soul
when I found it
