Names Don’t Signify Characters

My name has the sweet meaning of someone whose arrival

was hoped from before with dreams sitting in the middle of faces.

About me: I never waited for anyone to knock at the door of my

days. As they passed swift, peeling barks of hours balmed by

void. This poem is about something wanting less and inclined

more towards how a wait when over, leaves a

blank.

This is then

after you opened and zipped me back. Your touch on every atom

of me. How with ease you swapped my chemical properties. I am

alkaline. And now, when you walk beneath the winter drizzle of

your city. I slip my hand behind the blanket dreaming its journey

would end against the soft collision of your fingers. Busy looking

for warmth against hill air in my surroundings

It’s 31st December. The world waits for a new year to begin. As time

falls to rise again with a new glitter on it. The glitter birthing from

fallopian tubes of hope. Mist skates gently in the garden. My senses

feel you like the puddle of color blue. I am unaware how should I

define this realization. Like an art that should convey something in

ought to be called art. If not anything than teaching grief of my void

that fails to measure sonar sounds of its broadness multiplied to

depths. How to stop walk of a poem to this moment that outlives

metaphors for salted wounds. The world is dancing on 12AM

fireworks. Songs my bones hum are just another elegy for the

bad side of a forest with a quicksand maze. Barbed wires fencing

I lean on them and imagine it’s you clinged like light to a waning moon.