it seems
an easy dive
into the moisture
of my pupil
|
and equally
as you ride
it down
the crevice
between my cheek
and my nose
|
i can taste
the salt
as you
drip down
my lips
|
but
i guess
as long
as i'm upright
that's the direction
this particular
memory
goes
|
and as you
reach the cusp
of the one thing
i'm supposed
to keep up
|
and the air
between it
and my toes
|
i can feel
my chin
tremble
out of the fear
this tear
too
will disassemble
|
and become
yet another
echo
that soaks
into my clothes


—
xTHExIDISx
© Erik Xydis