Me

It happened again.

Forgetting all but the

orange stripe, tending to

the edge of a cliff

comforting each other from

the neverending strikes

of crashing waves. This

I understand. Not myself

as seen through the eyes

of others, but the coastal

highway, a journey of

jagged fractured pictures

of presence and forgetfulness.

This I understand.

As many times, I chose this footpath,

from among the many others

by declaration of an everlasting love.

For that which could never be whole.

An orange stripe, swathed across the ocean

swaying my oceanic heart

I am moved to tell myself

another story, in hope that

I may shortly bridge the gap

between our separation,

ourselves fragmented, hoping

that, believing that

to write a line of us,

could glue us together

like kissing whom

I love most.