The Subconscious Poem by Ivona Sophia

we are finding each other again. time
is not favorable for us, writing across
journals, calendars, days. scribbles
on margins, make inessentials memorable.

at night we sleep walk, senseless.
rivers at the source have glass clarity. years
pass by dismissively. we are mute.
the air vibrates with stillness. water above

my head is growing opaque. coldness is closing
wounds. fingers with ink scars clenching
your forearm, a part of you which always
turns me on. twenty seconds of silence.