I feel the
subtlety of what is going to happen once our fingers touch, entwine. Its hues
of grey are settling in the back of my mind, wandering through dark drawers and
keyholes full of rust. Freeze everything you said to me that night when we didn’t
speak, but held. I’m going
to frame it along side other images caught by tiny webs between the ever
changing colours of my eyes, like intakes of breath waiting on my lips. Hold onto
this when you realize what I tried to tell you. Do not stop
remembering.
You came to
me, you asked me how to love, would you, and could you ever? I had loved, you
were sure of it. And I have. I’m not the
kind to keep a thing like warmth hidden, not the growing expenses of a looming
daydream, of the things we’d want to name and feel. Make the abstract come
true. Reach out your hand, into the dark and dare to hold on.I never
knew that to you, this would only be a looming monster.
I feel the subtlety
of the change now, of every new facet I uncover in the lines of your hands
while you’re not even aware of being studied. Somebody who fears this has
either nothing to show or hides his own face in shame. Which are you? Does it
even matter?
Lock down.
Close your hinging doors. Throw away your words, discard the matters. Find the
way out, the last loophole. Excuse yourself;
tell me that I’ve got it wrong.
Hold onto
this when you realize what I tried to tell you.
Never again
be afraid of being loved.