If these fingers touched ink,
let what flows be
untainted and true;
unsmeared and sure.

If these hands mould clay,
let what is made be sturdy.
Be uncracked,
unblemished
and smooth like porcelain.

If this body pivots upon legs,
let it stand upright and tall.
So no wind could fell it down.
But should it topple,
let no earth will it shatter.

If this mind invites another,
let no thought nor idea
adulterate its own...
For its ways may wind
and meander,
but it is obstinate.

If this heart still beats,
no matter how faint...
Let its rhythm be steady
and unrelenting.
So it might echo
through long days
and moonless nights
to find others like it.

Then,
I may not feel so alone.

I can
remember
everything
about the
last time
I witnessed
your smile.

and if
you could
see how
beautiful
the memory
is,

you would
realize
like me
that there
is never
a "was"
to a
moment
spent
with you.

it lingers
and sings
to me,

to reveal
all of
it's secrets,

and though
I might
meet it
now with
empty
pockets
of fate.

your face
is something
I always
carry with
me,

in deep
breaths
and tender
offerings,

in  true
definition
of what

a woman
can do
to your

soul.