Thursday, 15 December 2011
I find you in things that don’t make sense.
In cries of the spoon when I stir my tea
In traces of melting sugar on its steel.
In the eye of every glass
I find I don’t see myself at all.
I find you when I am faceless and I lose myself
In dark corners and paths I walk away from
And never stare back
In creases of my unironed clothes
In threads that come undone and unravel like the seasons
In dents and curves of my misshapen body
In the dust that rises from people in a hurry
And settles back, like time itself.
Sometimes I talk with insanity
At times I give my thoughts a name
And sometimes she comes to me with faces I knew
In silence that I break too soon
With my unkempt words
On empty pages that always win
In melting wax gathered next to a flame
In tears I shed over those I don’t know
In a yellow moon, half eaten by the sun
In words and gestures I don’t hear and overlook
In strands of hair sticking to my skin
Like an ill-treated memory
I’m afraid, my love,
I’m turning into you.