Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Post-it notes

Spontaneous thoughts that I needed to write down or else they would disappear and I won't remember them. And it hurts so much to be forgotten. I, of all people, am the most accustomed to it at the moment.

Are we too careful or are we such cowards?
We know we can touch the fire with our tongues and put it out,
But we let it burn.
We let it burn our heads and break our skin
Until it consumes us to less than ashes.
All we have to do is touch it with our tongues,
But we choose speech.


In fact, we are made of the same stardusts.
You hide in me, I hide in you.
And we bear the universe in our wrists, in our fingertips.
We bleed the cosmos and we bathe in it.
I keep you safe, you keep me safe
We are each other's hiding place.


Following fireflies
tired you reached a lone island
of old lighthouses.


Between skin and skin:
warm breaths, secrets.


Can you smell the moss in our skin?
the smell of the moist forest floor in the morning?
We're half covered in twisting vines and dead leaves
and soon enough, im afraid, we're gonna disappear and be one with the oldest unnamed tree.
But isn't it wonderful to belong with such,
in this, our anonymous death?
Isn't it wonderful to die without a trace as if we never existed?
And it'll be our little secret, that we lived,
and it'll never slip away from our mouths, from our lips
not even be drifted away by the gossips of the wind.
And they'll never find us. They'll never find us.

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