By Jyni Verma
I borrow something that is my own
My name remains engraved in your skin
Yours at the tip of my tongue
Even when we go back home
Folded up in different nooks
Appearance of origami, just crumpled paper upon close inspection
Needing each other to fold into.
We talk about our days
Our day(s). Mine and yours, separate ones.
Stretching ourselves thin to reach across boundaries,
The fact that we're in separate states is based on a construct anyway,
And don't you want to rebel against powerful men?
It turns out breaking boundaries doesn't reduce the kilometres between us.
I scrawl your name in my card
As you write mine down in the neatest way
Noting the time by the second
Biting our tongues down, lashing out to stop the bleeding
There's a special kind of bitterness in the price I pay for loving you.
I know you like libraries,
But these aren't the dates I envisioned.
Can we focus on fairy tales instead of ticking clocks?
I'm willing to break the hands and deconstruct time
For five more minutes of being in your arms.
We can't today honey,
I have prior commitments,
And so do you.