the miles

the miles multiply with my thoughts

I search the darkness

for a few hours, days or weeks

left there by a sympathetic genie

If people look for evidence

in the folds of my mind

the folds of my heart

or in faraway pits

in lonely deserts

near sweet caves under starry skies

for evidence of you and me

they would trip on a map

of oblivion where hope resides

and possibilities hide

I’ve memorized it

I’ve cinched it

I’ve stuffed it in my pillows

where it swims with feathers

I’ve laced it to my dresses

where it brushes against my skin

a tap on my window wakes me

from my grotesque dreams

a shy messenger pigeion

promises me miles and a message

I dip my hand in a pot

of thoughts and feelings

I find distance and cold

and warmth at the core

I wrap a feeling in a ribbon of sighs

and tie to the sweet pigeon

and drift off to a sleep without miles

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