*by Isabelle Yap* 😉


We fumble in the dark,

and question the meaning of our hands.

Observe how we never seem to learn:

these were the same walls we ran into

yesterday. The landscape has memorized

our bodies enough that it no longer has to shift

to scar us. It only repeats the same touch,

striking deeper each time until it hurts

no more. And I know too well

how accustomed you have become

to our collisions, how I meet you:

how we spin and crash like winged meteors

with nowhere to land, how we burn

trail, and thrash. How we injure

each other, gridlocked, tangled. Aflame

but cast in shadow, making vivid only

how blind we still are, how we remain

in grave need of candles.



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