there is war.
Perhaps you and I will never understand, how we could have ever met in this universe, in this queer time.
As much as I want to forget the first time I saw you, your existence haunts me;
it peeps through my dream.
Those eyes, brows, and your bare head--are what I see, even when I close my eyes for a moment.
As much as I want to stay away from you, my feet are resisting.
The rest of my body are agreeing.
My hands can't stop writing these fatuous words.
I don't know you; you don't know me.
I am happy knowing the uncertainty.
But when I'm with you, I am just awkward.
My feet want to sprint out of your door.
***
GN, 12-3-12
