Your Form Poem by A Waltz For Zizi

You're always changing something:
your lipstick, your perfume,
the color of your hair.
You don't seem to understand
why I keep myself far, why I fear your fingertips.
The chest fails to protect the heart.
It is merely a cage.
You poke me to see my reaction.
My mistake is that
I carry my soul with me.
It makes me brittle, easy to break.
I'm a freak among men (they say) .
If you'd lay kisses on my skin
I'd sink into the ground
grow roots around your mouth
hold your hand as you sleep
bathe my lips in your breath
but not quite kiss you
not wanting to wake you
waiting for the clock to open your eyes.
I'm a fool. I run after the things
that fly out of your mouth.
I catch them and put them
on my eyes to see what you are talking about,
I put me in them
and make stories of us behind you.
I follow the sea picking the sand from your feet
kites wagging their tails above us
biting the clouds that dare
to come close to the sun.
Your mouth holds things unknown to me.
I try to make my nervousness kiss.
I try to kiss you. I fail.
I try again. I fail again.
You're not turning around.
You keep chasing the kites.
and I think to myself: Someday
this girl will carry me with her
on the top of the mountains.