( feb. 2. a year later.)

it is strange how it is felt
by both of us,
across city streets that
are caked with snow,
you think it would have frozen
delicately in the air like
crystals on windows,

but it carried, & the words
I write are the words I would
say to you my love, these
are the words I would say.

somehow they find their way through
circuit boards and make connections
on an infrastructure made of
machinery, certainly the words
must translate well enough.

today I miss you like every other,
still, I fall asleep pretending (still)

I am embarrassed at what I have developed into,
but not scared enough to stay in hiding,
no, I will pour forth like a flood
and saturate your skin,

I am ready now to come undone.

somehow it is felt by both you and I
for reasons I will never understand.
but I do not need to understand the
complexities of our ventricles
to understand the simplicity
of what is pumping through them.