You gave me a name without asking.
History of my pain did not need any label.
I recalled only the blooms of bougainvillea,
not the heat which gave them color.
My burned lips remembered only the dew and rear view of life.
The total otherness of the moon and stars
did not heal the scars.
My perceptions had given me hot tears.
How the distance between us created the schizophrenia?
The familiar laughs have frozen after all!
In the middle of night I lie awake
to count the door and the closed windows.
I listen to the moaning of walls.
My eyes remained half-closed in freckled sleep.
Heart blinks, unsnaps and weaves a moon.