[inspired by "Letter to Hermione" by David Bowie"
I pushed up against your skin
until we almost fused together like sand to glass.
But my skin just rubbed off
exactly where you touched me,
and you were more polished than ever.
Shine on.
My letters met your voice somewhere along the way,
and crashed like planets confused in orbit,
but nevertheless suffering a silent war in that empty universe that was "our life."
As a result I learned that ink never means as much to the ear as it does to the hand
and reached nirvana.
Now I feel as awkward as I probably did at birth;
ripped from the ultimate utopia.
I sought southern comfort to make the newness (the rawness) OK;
I dug in deeper; I'd rather feel lost and confused.
I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do
because I've never seen you like this before.
And consequently, I've never seen me
see you like this before.
