Liquid

Love, when it lives as a gesture, stays where it is cradled;
But when it is asked for like a constant language,
It wears down the voice that speaks it.
I believed your eyes were singular, vast as an ocean without shores,
and I wasn’t lying…

But that vastness was born in me, in the way I looked at you,
in a faith that has since gone dark.
Blood, on the other hand, asks for no permission:
It is red, it is certain, a restless pulse that insists.

It promises no calm, but it never pretends.
We tried to be water in the same channel,

But I am the current that escapes,
And you, the weight that remains.

I expand, you hold fast.
I dissolve, you overtake.
We were liquid, yes, but of irreconcilable natures: you, the sea;

I, the blood.