Tuesday, November 10, 2009

the afterward.

I am marked with ink stains and curiosity and a dirty tongue that hides behind a smile that won't let you down.

It's like that rush of ambivalence that comes from accidentally letting go of your birthday balloon and watching it roam freely through the transparent blue expanse of our atmosphere. A balloon disintegrating into space into nothing.

Illusion! I know it floats on, where it ends I will never know. Just because layers of depth have clouded it from view doesn't mean it is not still going. Just because I can't see you doesn't mean you aren't there waiting.

Waiting beneath my bed till night falls and you rise, like Queens of the Night. From ghost to flesh, I felt you're flesh, tore you flesh, and watched it slip like water through my finger spaces. You fold up like paper when the sun hits your body, leaving me with nothing but wet hands to remember.

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