The words of a song
half-forgotten
still echo in the back of my dream
your face, like a time-yellowed photograph
Antagonia
my nemesis
higher harmonics of a
superstring
symphony in my chest
your face still haunting
those eyes, those lips...
were the brane of a universe
and I thought I knew,
but still today I haven’t figured
what that touch of ours
gave birth
To