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.

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