A Matter Of



it’s a matter of

finally finding myself


in the night hanging from a

window sill gazing at a padded sky


finding beauty in the dark grayness

of thinking i shall call you

once more

of finding his hair everywhere

in the sink in my bed in my socks



of a picture of the hands of the other one

a poem engraved deeply down


of the air moved away by his presence

while he danced around  me



of feeling the hands of that one encircling me

as he laid me bare and attacked me

of being centered again

of being the center of your attention

of being entered by so many emotions


of having forgotten the pain one left me with

of having forgotten him

of having only scars and no more wounds


of being silent still and thrilled


of hearing no more sounds

in the night just that perfect quietness

of realizing none of you matters


and all of you do


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