in hopes-
i took my inspiration from softer wrists.
the baby blues, roots hidden
by glass pane
(repaired)
it came as a shock.
no lies, scars hidden
or blood left dried.
a tabula rasa, in its own right.
you come to me at 2 a.m.
seeding dreams of-
yellowed bathroom walls
filtered through sparse house plants
and dusted sunlight.
biking years
rickety metal through war torn streets
young immigrant eyes, knew more than any american shopkeeper or beachgoer.
it all begged the question
your solid self, seeped into me,
(me, yes me,
a ghost brought to
life?
or is this a new limbo)
tiptoeing in the still of night, only on clear skies
did your soul touch mine.
your bare wrists and young heart-
what, then, was stolen from you
all those years ago?
baby blues, roots, this time
take me back
to feel thick foot heels
stomp in the summer dirt
was it a raucous summer?
one you held
close to heart, or, lost overseas?
a worldview in tunnel vision
(finally, something you lacked)
eyes turn, when i felt the spark.
short-term limits, and I couldn't recall
were you dream or desperation?
regardless, we all hope,
so i whispered into that endless black
to a ceiling and the past
"jag älskar du"
A/N: jag älskar du means "i love you" in Swedish
YOU ARE READING
NEW HEARTS & COLD SEAS
Poetrywhen they seek you out because they know they can, because they know they can get away with it - anonymity is your friend.
