solaris

palms open

eyes like pools reflecting

thoughts that hinge

on words half formed

half steady

articulate and smooth

waver through a lie

flow, trickle into streams

unmanned trajectories

i am lost

in what i cannot say

hands gather

in a small home

a place in the mind

where everything

can be tucked away

and trembling hands

smoothen out the creases

trace the seams

they gently fold

place in these compartments

the thoughts of you

stored and safe

everything in its right place.

-

One day I'll write a book of longing,

And fill it with love,

And fill it with hate,

But most of all with the things I couldn't fake.