Poem: Of skin dreams

He asked her why she carries the moon upon her shoulders;

but her answer gave him more questions than answers.

»So that the ghosts I know become faceless.«

He knew the balance between intruding and letting things develop.

»May I give you stars, so people might confuse you for a night sky?«

She smiled apologetically: »I didn't ask for the stars,

but for someone to lay down with and watch them.«

It starts with a few gentle piano keys.

Between tiny neon bulbs we spread our hearts on these sheets,

wishing our hands would grow roots

into each other skin.

“My eyes are burning and my eyelids feel heavy,” she said.

“But I’m afraid to even blink,

‘cause all of this could be gone when I open them.

My mind keeps reaching for you.”

He put his palms against her cheek and said:

“Your skin and nerves developed from the same group of cells.

They were of a familiar mind; lovers like you and I;

they were separated, but made something beautiful out of it.

Now the nerve cells keep grasping towards the skin.

They never give in. Carefully listening to every stroke, brush, tingle...

So don’t be afraid to rest your eyes,

I’ll draw dreams on your skin.”

---- so many ways to touch someone

electricity of our fingers leave us breathless

refilling our lungs, restarting our hearts

until there is no fear left inside.

.

It's kind of weird how this poem and drawing accidentally fit together. Neither one influenced the other.