I sit reading for so long that my legs tingle
with guilt, and the arms of the chair
become my arms. For a moment
I feel the stiffness in your back.
The way it starts is the way it ends and I kiss you like the worst I’ve ever had is a paper cut. I dream of asking you out for coffee, watch the flowers grow in real time. You live above me so I stick stars on the ceiling. I’m hoping that they’ll help you sleep better.
me with an English name, unlike some
peers who had to live by Rui Qi, Xian Yu.
no more than drowned apostles,
or burnt moths.
you are simply a colour
i can never touch again.