Crossroads My body is cold and rigid, my hands like icicles on your skin. I woke up in the morning to find the leaves had changed, Frost weighing them down Like so many memories I tied onto stones And threw into the river. I have always taken solace in the seasons and sudden transformations And known that sadness would always melt into laughter, Pain always explode into persistence, And the dawn always make way for the beautiful shoulders of the next day. But for the first time I want to run my hands over the calloused rock knowing that it has been there For millions of years. I want to know That I will always love you But that our paths were never supposed to meet and that we should just feel lucky that they did. I want to know That fish will always have fins, That birds will always have wings, And that a bubble will always burst into tiny droplets when you try to catch it in your fingers. In this way you will have taught me to recognize forever wh...
Some days you can read my face Like a map: Origami pressed Into the glove compartment. The creases creeping Along the dead ends And round-a-bouts Speak volumes. But the rest of the week I am well contained: A Japanese instruction booklet. Only the images are universal And half my screws are missing. Don't be surprised If I fall apart.
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