& still, this light in my temple;

October 9th, 2004 · 8 comments

I.
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.
the ghost of you. (our autumn & winter)

II.
not this troublsome
wring of hands, this dark
ceiling without a star
.

.
.

sometimes i am open & haunted for days and there is nothing but here & now and this impossibly wide aching absence. recently, it is in the way i hold my hands out before me, in the way i stand swaying in the hallway, my hair down & eyes closed, low and quiet and feverish, like a moon. on days like this, you unfurl out from me in bright, nebulous waves, my small hands pressed hot against the line between here and there. past and present. my mouth & yours.

on days like this, i feel like a secret. sultry and ancient and dark.

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