Away Is A Way

i.
a kiss is a hug of lips
is the firm grip of holding hands
is contact is friction
is heat is passion
but is it love--

there is too much history
between you and me

ii.
christmas is your favourite holiday
and this christmas
my phone
(the kind that allows me to tag pictures to numbers)
lighted up the broken heart i tagged to your number
vibrating like hope or fervour
the flashing a reminder of transience

we talked about nothing in particular (the safest)
and after we hung up, on my way home
i kept staring at the yellow, forbidding strips on
the North-South Line platform and Bus 77.
the alighting steps on Bus 77 declared
"Standing on steps prohibited"

iii.
i could give this poem three endings.

iv.
the boy in me died, and the girl lived happily ever after
or
the boy in me remained friends, living the rest of his life as the somebody else
or
or
or

v.
i didn't meet you because it wasn't a coincidence
(and only coincidences are free-of-charge).
without contact there can be no friction.

vi.
it is the cold water running through a dispassionate heater that confirms my capacity for heat. it is only now that i remember how my Physics teacher used to stress that coldness was just one end of heat transfer. a cold region implied a hot one, and if it was coldness that i felt from the exchange, i hope it was warm enough for you because i never meant to steal your heat. without contact there can be no friction. i am the reactionary force to your every gesture; a Newton law, a marionette, a love but not the love.

away is a way

away is my way
- posted by fey @ 12:16 AM