Who has a heart so wide to kneel on the floor and look up at me with big brown eyes and say the words I had been rehearsing since I rounded that corner and saw you there and didn't stop looking and wanted you to see?
Who is wise enough to guess my middle name and the walls I build? Who has courage enough to break the unspoken rules of the in-between?
How many nameless people must wander the isles of my dreams before I stop to turn and utter the very exsistence I have been hiding from my entire life?
Will you always haunt me?
Will my own lost space become the day I regret, 20 years later, sitting above some foreign street in a faraway city, with a view that has long since deserved to be let go?
Will I wish in that moment that I had been more like you or perhaps less caught up in my own head, that I had knelt, held my heart up to the light, and shown you just how lonely we really are?
Cinnamon, turmeric, and the dust in the corners
More by Love to write
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Unbecoming
The streets have teeth and we hold our fingers with enough space for the others and drink cider on a corner where the ceiling above us blinks blue-blue-blue onto her tonsil-pink dress and someday I hope I never have to see it in a suitca
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Self-Portrait at 18
I know it’s a bad title
but I’m carving these words
out of my compacted mind.
I’m trying to mix the mud of my thoughts
into something more coherent
than to do lists and quiet -
Authorized Entrance Only
There is no twilight in the city.
Only time we collect in our mouths,
sun peeling color off the streets,
rats skittering down sidewalks.
The fire escape has been painted gold.
It shimmers at night,
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