relative integrative

We moved so fluid within foggy copper pools of street lamps, it was like we were part of the glow.

Dim enough to stay unnoticed, I still remember the way dust became glitter swirling around you. Spinning around crosswalk signs and missing red hands flash green and acting like I wasn’t ready to go…

You said I was beautiful once.

It was the time after you brought me a single stargazer lily that I wish I dried. Back when I would wake up with no promises and wet pillowcases… damp cheeks.

Every day on the subway I close my eyes because seventy miles an hour underground surrounded by the trust of strangers is safe. More secure than the frequency of phone rings that never came when I was too young and you had too much of two things: friends and money.

And I never understood that…

We went to Central Park late one night, it surprised me that you never noticed the way I seek out dark situations, like finding the perfect place beneath branches – the residence of your eyes.

You never told me that you counted the shades of green my gaze shifts when I once wondered about whether you remembered my zodiac sign, or how much emphasis I put on moon signs and Venus.

Ascending signs… out of sight.

When you took me out to breakfast and opened a newspaper I watched you read, smiling at my word secrets. Suddenly we were sitting on a balcony four stories above St Marks Place drinking double espresso and smoking clove cigarettes. And I had everything.

No one seemed to realize the way you wore me like a silk scarf, the soft slip around your hips or shoulder enclosure… how you embraced my satin spell and tied me into a talisman.


There was one friend you would talk to about me. You told that person how I only touch with the tips of my fingers and never expect anyone to stay. You mentioned the time that I said you would break my heart and your friend said…

‘Maybe you should avoid people like “that”.’

You stopped speaking about how the things that I stand near are left with the scent of frankincense. It upset you. You wished there was someone else you could talk to about it.

And I deserved…

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