Ocean January 7, 2015 2:43:40 PM – 2:46:41 PM

Sentences are an ocean. I’ve stalled on the threshold of the day. Glass millions of years old in the luminous desert.

The sentence that fell from your mouth just now. You wrote a sentence on my skin to help me see through your eyes.

It doesn’t matter. I found a line somewhere under my bookcase. It was before the diamonds, even before the movement of my fingers through shadows, through hair, through town plan after town plan.