Can I read you?
Furious Follower
I am curious to know
How you speak in your own language?
How you respond to the early-honey sun?
How the nutty crunch assemble around your lips?
How you undo the ribbons of your degrees,
Identity cards with zeros and ones paired with threes?
How you fall in between evening lapses?
How you wipe away your chaos-gone snow
Your confusions, your questions, your yearnings?
That stare that refracts and reflects from a
thousand sheens when you glare
for an eternity-long second, I
wish to know that one, that one
Was it for someone?
Your dreams
when you sleep on the cushions of stars
while you toss and turn for numberless
hours. For whom? For the heartache?
For the rejection, objections, or various
perplexions, I want to stash away your
colour for my brush, are you lime of the
Sea-weed? Gold of the attic or the white
of a miracle? I wonder if this madness of
mine is synthetic, organic, or a
mixed-breed just like the veins of yours?
The undiscovered version of you.
