When I first met you, I noticed your socks
above your ankles and rolled down slightly.
The first word that popped into my mind:
The real beginning
transpired out of a moment
that should have been filled with pain
(and it was).
Then I looked into your eyes:
simultaneously, I was hurt
and felt closer to you.
*I still barely know you
I think about you now on late night walks home
(yes, I think about you, and I do not know why).
Somewhere the lines all blurred into one fleeting feeling,
an ambiguous inarticulation—
the remnants of which morph into
A deep desire:
to be wrapped into your arms, lying in bed
to wake up in the morning
and see how the light
from your window
falls on your face
and watch the shadows
form on your body.
to lay my head on your chest
and hear your vibrations
I am fragile
(I rather stay ignorant than shatter).
I will look at the morning light
coming from my bedroom window
until time works to fade
and all that remains are shadows.
*I will never know you like that