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| Three words. |
I failed to make you see the things that
I thought would make you see the best in you.I failed to get my message across—
that you are the best thinker I have ever met,
for you can think of me and the rest of your galaxies all at the same time.
I failed to speak with you, because every time there was a chance,
that small, elusive chance was like a tadpole that keeps on
slipping my fingers infinitely and getting lost in the dust.
It jumps back to my fingers and slips again to swim in the dust.
You are changing, morphing, turning into something existential—
something between the positive and negative poles,
for you are nowhere to be found.
I could not find that potion that regenerates a heart,
now holey, unnoticeably pierced by your furtive sword.
The heart you can easily slip from, like a tadpole
jumping through a flying circus ring.
The heart you can go back into, and add more holes.
It shall heal, the tadpole will become a frog
and forget that holey heart.
You are just in my holey heart.
I failed to tell you there are no holes.
There is only you.
