I am the culmination of every twinkle in the eyes of who I meet.

The most beautiful parts of their language and body are like cultural diffusion,

Passing and spurning new knowledge into the whole of the world.

“Please, could I take your arm?”

My language is spoken in the tongues of the people I love,

In a collective of the reflections of the truest soul.

Taking in worlds more than your own,

Sculpting your mind with the remnants of what most strikes you

Builds towering sunset scaffolding to the foundation

Of the self you deem the most beautiful.


I geNtly cARess my CISternS of InSTant reflection.

I kiss the surface of the mirror before me,

“Please show me it’s true we all die here,”

In my myriad of tongues

Across the walls of

the catacombs in my mind.

The words echo, but I can’t make them out.

A dim yellow light reflects in the cracks kissing mortar,

But my legs won’t push me any further.

My beating heart admonishes my patience,

“You must take more time,” it says to me.

I trust that my ventricles are wiser than I,

So I relax for a moment, at the lack of danger.


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