While I lie awake with you this fortunate evening
I breathe in the frosty cold and breathe out our winter tale
A bit of snow crystals, a bit of tender falling
I turn my head to face you
And mistake your freckles for snowflakes;
That’s the turning point
When the outer world metamorphoses
And the grey converts to white and clean and pure and seamless
A thin crack in the icy lake
Spreads alongside our wakeful bodies
Like a thread of forsaken memories
All sunk to the bottom of the water.
In one of your dormant memories,
There’s a pattern of a future us
Whereas here and now
You find me longing for faraway flesh
Whole bodies split by a continent
So much land, a waste of space between us
Nothing but borders, regulations, paperwork
While we do our own pen and paper work
As soon as the lamps dim, the aching ice
Begins to sparkle eons and as we look around
We catch a glimpse of our younger selves
Somehow trapped between all those faraway galaxies
That were once radiating their best light
For, after all,
They were in the presence of lovers.
Stars now stretch all throughout the frozen lake in an undying web of curious strings that have brought us closer; when you touch them, they vibrate at the same frequency we do and thus we know how the world was created. We hear the atoms collide, we hear the silence before the big bang and witness the birthing of our own universe, a flood of warmth and light, an icy spell. In this eerie nighttime, we seek poetry with hungry mouths and what we find is yet unknown.
As the ice cracks further and collapses beneath their bodies, the lovers clutch onto each other, not to save their lives, but to die, enlaced, of a little death.