You

You
As Einstein once said
‘Cold doesn’t exist,
just the absence of warmth’
Which I think is a beautiful thing

As I realise
Sorrow doesn’t actually exist,
Just the absence of love
Yet we dress that up in chromatic costumes
with scripts of rage
Thrusting it on stage
So it can be seen;
So it can be heard…

That’s the thing, people don’t really listen
they just hear
They don’t understand that the words that you speak
will have begun somewhere
That these melodies will have scrutinized the very depths of your soul
and may have come from that book that you read one rainy day
and made you cry
because it had the same echo your friends laugh did
Somehow that moment metamorphosed into gloss on the tip of your lips
And you wished
that someone would pour in like rain
in the middle of a deathly drought
where sweet rays of honey scorch your baby-soft skin,
And wash away all that makeup

Because we’re all the same.

I wonder will someone ever hold my hand and understand
All that I am
And know I’m not crazy
Or insane,
I’m just constantly on the brink of realisation of what it is to be human,
to be alive
In all its entirety?
Will that person just flick through these novels in my mind
or will they get so entranced by them they’ll be late for an interview
but won’t care
They’ll just carry on reading till they realise that they
are writing alongside with me?
We won’t need fiction
When re-writing this reality is fantasy in itself
Since all we need to do is look up at some non-existent celestial body of mass,
An endless photograph of the past,
Knowing our eyes see them
The same eyes that were made of those very recycled stars
Because we’re all just arguably-crafted clumps of atoms
Who have added meaning
To a heart beat

So when Einstein said
‘Cold doesn’t exist,
Just the absence of warmth’
I gaze at my skin covered in goose bumps
I understand
I’m not cold, nor sad
Something’s just absent
And I pray to some boundless infinity
That I’ll find it soon

In a recycled universe

That turns out

To be you.