What is it that lies
before us
Just outside the
finger’s contact
The reflection of
light to an eye?
What is it in his face
that I have to see again and again?
When you started
liking photos
I liked yours back
with equal intention
And urgency, until I
saw the other
Tagged with you and
yours.
Drawing back was all I
could do.
What was beyond touch
was left aside,
Afar, out of sight
without attempting glance,
Beyond, without
knowing where to look.
The kisses we had on
the edge of the sea
Would be the Thirty-year
anniversary that never came,
Your lips at the
airport would be death’s separation,
An eternal departure
where you never look back.
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