jasmine

light years between us now
your uncertainty decapitates me.

i hope you still buy produce from the market across the street
and eat them cross-legged on the carpet.

don't tell me you've done the bohemian thing
and rationalized religion and God
upon returning home from months abroad,
the discrepancies of faith
air-ridden.


i'm only writing this
because the girl from eons ago
was divine by nature.

Monday to Sunday, on a Carousel

Thursday.

Parrallel streets,

I walk the pavement like a plank.

drowning in the part of me I haven't yet met.



Sunday.

Boxes, boxes hang,

silhouettes in empty spaces. We are two planets. Collide.



Monday.

Your scent infused on my pillow, my tee shirts, your jeans snug my bottom like a hand.



Wednesday.

Threads unwind, I will carry you with me
forever until Thursday.