(I want)
remembering at 1:48 p.m. on 2005-08-26

I want to read you,
divulge your thick, dry pages...
Pull the juicy darkness from your story,
and close my eyes.
Remaining suspended, between words and meanings.

Your narrations...every time your voice begins,
Life is recreated only for you and I,
Imagined living in this soft summer breeze.
The gift of your tangibility, like
The taste of dust on a ripened fruit
Your certainty, which lingers over me.
To capture and with hold in me, this small light of ease.

Or hope?

I want to read you,
You, who are nothing short of my beginning.
And yet I cannot force your pen to fill my empty plots.
I can only touch the pages�
Bring the scent of grievance to my hands,
And close you,
For another day.

never was � never will be

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