Descent into fragmented eloquence, where I am living the wounds of broken stars, coiled around the most vulnerable me, the slightest slither unnerves me, and I become a paper-thin leaf, shuddering in too strong a wind.
The world is too enormous, to awaken to. I want to grasp you back into sleep with me, to smother you with a lover's clench, to tumble into the tender wisps of our contemplation. But still, how is it that my world is so separate from yours? That longing brings us no closer together? We are faced with each other, but removed from each other. In the hollows of existence, I have not yet encountered you.