I cannot remember the sky
and I do not feel the stars anymore.
Did I become the parasite
in a host of discarded thoughts?
Before the memories fade,
I see the silhouette
of your fingertips
reaching for me.
Is it a mirage?
Maybe I am going blind.
I am losing my tears
in a heap of your words.
Your voice
so silent
it threatens to leave me deaf.
I disappear
in your mind,
forgotten
in a desert of ice.
Skin after skin is shed,
no layers left.
One day,
I will hold on
to a soap bubble,
and it will take me away.
But my whispers are too loud.
The bubble burst.
(may 1st 2025)
reflections of an unquiet mind 