after the touch is gone i always wonder what it meant or where it could go
i never think to say anything out loud because i believe that sound in the wrong time can make things go
wrong

but in the afterglow or afterhaze of good feeling awarded to me from another i am never sure
questions surface like dirty clothes in my sink not yet taking to the soap
i am not clean
is this how you remember me?
who am i and what am i to you?
where will this go? or even better
is this a moment or a message?
a memory or a masterpiece in the making?

revelation doesn't usually come until hours later when i have regained a sense of silent solitude
when i have come back into honest communication with myself
when i can say or understand or know
that right now is nothing more than a breath
a wrinkle in time
and what is happening right now in this curved trajectory of light
is nothing less
nothing more
than love

the urgings of daylight on untouched flesh are many
the glow of heartbeat through soft wool
the tenderness of wanting something missed
or needing something old to remember one's self by

in the absence of nature lies the hardness of city life
polluted by sensations unreal
a kiss is no longer a kiss, but a means to an end
a deal breaker
a flat line on a screen whose job is to scream for life
or death

but
when we become human again
when we loosen the stays that bind us from feeling
from touching
from breathing deep upon impulse

in that moment
close to heat and heaven alike
sun does herself shine through
golden and rich
parting us from paths untraversable
and leading us into the welcome wanting arms
of ecstasy
(and in its beauty is where we ought to be)

i am drowning in the petals of your memory
soft and shy in shades of pink
with each breath you rise and flutter with wings of certainty
and surprise
my hopes strive to tether themselves to something solid
a branch
even a bark rubbed weary from years of touch and tease
winds whose breath tousled with itself after meeting
you

come, call peace to this battle royal of the sky
release the silent longings of sound from the synapses of my skin
move and sway
rhythm and blues

crash then scramble back up to your lofty perch whence you whisper to me
silver rivers on delicate lavender nights
rock beaches dimmed and caressed by your cool cover of words
on words
on sounds
in silences that say to me
sing on, baby
sing on