Fifty and 3

The smile on my face is fragile.
I smash it with my fist like glass.
And with it my fears.

Every thought is a prayer they say.
I don’t go for places of gods anymore.
And only ever pray for clarity.

I have taken your life in me.
The bits and pieces you chose.
And I know you have, too.

Your smile — as twisted as mine.
Our pain, revealing, yet hidden.

I am waiting for you.
In ruins, in paths of flowers, swimming in lakes.
We wait to awake.

Get drunk differently tonight.
Fall asleep in a bright flash of light.
And dream of your chosen path.

Down here below where I hear your whisper, I feel you ever present.

The words we can use, taste bitter now.
We choose not to speak.
Only see each other.

I look ahead into an endless blue.
Lush greens, so unlike the colours I use.
It’s pastel and sweet.

Expression and impression.
Though, it often is the other way around.

I look fabulous today. Did you see?
You astonish. Simply.

At the Small Alley Cafe we take seat.
No forced smiles.
Still no words.
Glances beyond wall, vails, boundaries.

That nose over there, sits perfectly, between ears, below eyes, in shapes still fresh, unknown to me.
Quietly I romanticise.

Cracking a smile; it shatters again.
The pieces fall on the table before me.
Wide eyed, you look at them.

You put down your hand, carefully, to not cut it open on me.
I hesitate to take —
Both we wait.

Emotions play over our faces, without a muscle moving.
I take your hand; phasing in and out of reality.
Where could a path lead, we choose now.

You are thinking of my whispers.
You heard them advancing like an avalanche.
You never thought, I could cover you.

Your words are brief.
My smile lasts.

You have chosen my visibility, ripped away the shadows I lived in.
And I feel every misstep I made.
We have both stumbled a lot to get here.

I have missed you all along.
And you knew I was good.

And I remain the loneliness you fear, when you are not alone.
Now and here we live.
Always apart in flesh.
Sometimes one in mind.

Your smile, my smile, lips to meet.
Fingers touched.
Arms wrapped.
Floating, like.
Invisible to anyone,
Visible to us.

Finally we speak.
Words like rivers.
Thoughts like trees.

We go too far.
Right where we need to be.

Preceded by 1, 20, Twenty-two and 40–one

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