is it your heart speaking

or your fear

of this mirror.

in tongues.

it is a death

that follows me through the city

the dark depth of wind

whipping garbage up my skirts.

men

around the corner they fly

like snow

and memory.

and handsome

and nothing to me.

for i am lost without you.

you whose touch is a feast

even being a stranger.

and loveless.

i weep.

perhaps i am the fool

but i stay open and steady

to what i believe

until it leaves...

me.