My heart is a street light,
but once the night takes me
to darken my old sight
where will I be?
My lungs are matchsticks
just slightly on fire
nothing to fix
How to respire?
My brain is a painting
drawn on my forearm
Are colors sustaining
its bittersweet charm?
My limbs are sweet landscapes
Covered in snow
Can't grasp all the shapes
Will I ever know?
My hands take me places
write letters, make portals,
draw unknown faces
of long-lost mortals -
I wish you could tell by how I look at you
