it's a bright day, she smiles at me, she clinches to my mouth, a thoughtful answer, I look at her little straight thumbs in her lap, her brown wrinkled fingers forming a circuit of electricity, then she runs off, disconnects, but she comes back again, reconnects, and cuddling with a smile she says she loved the bright day we spent, and makes me happy on a dead motionless day with cold flowing love.
when the dark night remains, we sit inside a bar, outside a crying sky of aloof stars, a howling silence of murmur and simple conversations, of particles dancing between us, she sits and stares, her upper jaw of smiling teeth, she is full of inner love, she never stops punching back thoughts, i clinch to her words, my defenses low, but she folds her arms crossed in the rain, as we walk home, before her dearly flat chest, shivering and avoiding contact.
words and eyes, her long, thin limbs, a slim chest, all in a warm, brown gloss, she is a spider on the wall, a brief silence of admiration in which i can breathe and blink, of beauty and admiration, of the constellations of her web, i follow her rushing limbs, her flickering dark eyes that are like a falling star across the wall of the universe on the night's sky.
i can no longer distinguish between the sadness and joy i feel, between the light and dark i see, but the beauty of a moment of hope that crawled by in the hours of a long afternoon, blindly, now past us.
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