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sometimes, and maybe after a cold rain

that washes some old irrelevant fears,

a face becomes indelible

in my imaginings.

sometimes, and maybe after a draft from

a cigarette and restlessness settles,

a familiar feeling sits on my chest.

an ache perhaps

or the missing gravity

of skin to skin.

sometimes, and maybe just some times,

you are atrociously stubborn,

frightfully ineffaceable:

you and your weight sitting on my chest,

you and your weightlessness on my arms

you or maybe,

still you again.

- rvrbueza 013009 -