Your lavender gaze of loneliness 
gives hope to a malfunctioning star 
to open it's mouth for leftover love letters 
the rain has forgotten to destroy. 
Transparent like a poet's first poem, 
you move around, 
your silence -a dripping golden ray,
your  grief - a bubble of soap floating.
I sit inside summer's warm basket, 
asking the oceans 
why they won't ever dry up, 
so that I can have the secret 
equated with life.
You turn into the sunset whose memory 
I am forced to let go into thin air.
To love you is, to have a deserts thirst,
To be loved back by you is, to have 
the line of impossible turned into a circle.
To see you leave is to become a child confused to see her home burning 
while she was taught that 
fire gifts warmth and light .
But 
To have your eyelash in my heart:
I call it a miracle, a talisman, a momento.
I keep my faith in a single god, 
and call him your name. 
Even though his eyes are closed.
Even his mud hands won't hold me.


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