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