An hour is eternity. If
paper is scratched with the wrong meaning
blood is drawn.
Why must it be so delicate?
The nib makes uncertain gestures over
winsome, or dusky, or sultry -
yet can't commit.
This is the horrid nature of specifics.
Still, one can't desecrate.
Those are not your smiles.
Your smile is the language
of forbidden consolations.
2.
Eternities pass.
The sheet lies like
a heavy drift of snow
upon the desk.
Words sink there.
So do men.
3.
When we were sacred, we carried small,
inviolable kingdoms of hope
around like children.
You smiled, then.
I can't see it.
I can't see it anymore.
This is urgent.
4.
At 3 am I stir coffee
for longer than necessary.
Just to do something.
Just to do anything.
I still can't forget
that I don't remember
your smile.
The new moon is a crescent.
A cheshire, mocking.
5.
At dawn, the neighbour's children
rise with a song that isn't yet broken.
How long will it be for them?
How long until they know
nights can pass without memories?
And just like that, the day will break.
With that, the day will break me.


Take care, keep safe, and stay beautiful,


Amor y Paz,


Jé


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