you.

A ball of feelings fell down to earth. After bouncing around for a while, it came to my head and stayed. There it got immersed within my memory and created my mood of the day. Always the easiest thing, blaming this ball of feelings that fell down to earth. They call it poetry.

With poetry in mind I tried to forget that things that have past really have formed the present me. But really, every single second of my past, like you – they linger. And, like metal, at certain peaks of the cycle they – again – got pulled out by magnets like you – and again. Out, to the surface, but not beyond.

Then I question.

And you said, “they were not stars – they were planets. Jupiter and Saturn.”

Such beauty, your preciseness of perception. Your descriptions of science in palpable reveries. And you thought you imagined that I wrote especially for you. I never answered, but now I will. In fact, I did, often times.

All that has past has formed the present us. And each of those elements has a certain shape; we name them. I now name those metals: nails. When they got pulled up by magnets; spikes, sharp ends, flesh. The attraction, the urge to come, out, to the surface, but perhaps not beyond; spikes, sharp ends, flesh. Never beyond, just to linger; spikes, sharp ends, flesh. How dramatic.

My love of anarchy – can we be different than we are? In another life, maybe; is it there that we will meet … or have we?