and for the very first time
I didn't blink
when the rage of light
flashed before my eyes
and for the very first time
I didn't know what to feel
about the patchwork sky
and cloud street
should I remember you
or should you remember me?
-starting to call myself a perfect stranger
YOU ARE READING
an ocean of teardrops
PoetryI avoid surfaces with reflections, avoid facing reality. At the sea, where I last washed away my scars only to have them appear in different places, different faces. And so I try comforting myself through imaginary conversations with the people I lo...
