my love, you don't know me at all
The way to you is a mystery. I often crouch in the corners of late afternoons, hiding from you avoiding your hurricane gaze There is bliss when I wake up to you in mornings, but you leave before I've had the chance to put the kettle on Teardrops water you, but suddenly, you are spontaneous joy. and I can no longer find you in dark spots in dust knots, in the inquiry that makes my bones ache Though forested, I know my way Though I tremble at the sight of you, you are love. I sigh with closed eyes; my sight is intangible but my longing corporeal. could I evaporate you into sweet bayou air and inhale the way I take in a stranger's cigarette smoke on a snow-swirled sidewalk, I would. I want to write you a letter, saying we are waiting for each other. but I know you are the one doing the waiting, and I am the one moving my feet towards you.