Three months

5 06 2015

I am still looking for you

in the crowds, from a distance.

though to you

I suspect I am precisely nothing.


I wonder which of us will break first?

Me? when I am convinced, after all,

that it was meaningless,

or you? Knocking one night

and finally hearing the empty space

I left behind.


I do not think it will be me.

My heart is a stubborn, jealous thing,

and I have a habit

of keeping open my injuries.


I hope, and do not hope

that it will be you.



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