blood runs through
the strands of your hair and the sun loves to bathe
in your eyes. you belie
your inner grief, you smile.
but you will never truly hide
the lines on your forehead while
you are in denial.
and since you are lost in reality, found in thought,
i thought of you, and sought
for you.
i ran my fingers through your hair
and felt the blood trickling down
and i froze in midair,
wanting to gauze this hemorrhage
of distance.
(c) 2003 mai kozai
silence is also music. {3:20 PM}
the poet
mai sharona.
december 5, 1984.
davis, california.
a sucker for flowers.
