y

is this the way we are made?
a fight, a flower and a kiss
a barely truthfull hugh
forgotten items in the place you are.

as a child i adored this ideas
of your sleep in my bossom
of my sleep on your pillow
of our hands into the night.

it is true there's no link for two strangers
and that strangers are forgotten names
but who am i to aim for the forces of your body?
why would i remain holding to your breath?

this evenings have been calmed
all of them
all this months and days
without any letters

i've been learning to forget.