In signs of nothing but attempted understanding I tried to make sense of everything - when we purposefully put ourselves in the positions of in betweens. & somehow here we go again, in this territory of unknown feelings uncharted with meanings. 

It is a harder sense of loss;

To lose something you doubt you even had in the first place

Everything is eventual

But sometimes,

Interpretations are illusory

at the altar of the world, my words decide to falter

dust

here is a dust of feelings in my palm

i will pocket it knowing 

that it exists again

here is to longing - and wanting, and missing
there is withdrawal tucked in the corner sheets of my bed

the only thing i had left was your hand to hold on to

for what felt like the shortest way home.

L'étranger encore
Finding solitude in the unknown
Yearning for the presence of the known
Comforted by the rhythm
Of my own moving mind

While memories
Appeared and departed so briefly
From the window of train
To offer relief


-Dec26th 2015 en route to London from Paris

sound -

i would tell you
that i miss the sound of your heartbeat against my own,
woven in and out like threads.

especially when i am drowned
by the sound

of my own heavy thoughts