The Tear That Kissed The Window

I found myself writing these
words again
Two tales
cut, tessellate
I have seen this skin before
and touch

Heard this voice in different pitch
Discovered this curl and
blonde, or brown.
And held this back, close
Sought home in the crook of these elbows
glance, these palms and trace.

Cried for these men
and acquainted with cold bathroom floors.

I have worshipped at these temples
palms flat on headboard
gripped these hems
reclined in this cloth.

I have known you sexual and apart
and unravelling on beds
and pieces and disembody
and body and mind two islands
extricate and dismember
and legs in pairs but isolate.

I have discovered the parts of you
which secret and private
and stretch like limb from bark
and eyes and curve
and find
and find
and brown thatched home which crumble.

You know I and deep
still one but find
and lost and you
but clutch and hold
still dust and cinder

I have met these constellations
known sweet talk the sky

and sit on clouds
and grasping branches
and reach
skimming fingers through brewing storms –
still