You, man in my heart,
I see you in sunspots
burned fatigue into rods and cones,
phosphene memory snapshots
of moments we met, shared, parted,
and met again.

You, my sister,
You know that Love,
Love is an octopus, it slithes away,
lurks sightless in garnet bright deeps,
but keeps sucker-stuck
to the bellies of your thoughts.

You, my mother,
Don't tear those droplets for me
Yes, I have also caught the madness
But how can a sane man
Live and still Love his own Life?

You, man in my heart,
In that dream, you were warm still.
Socks, at least, prevent the chill
of winter's concrete floor;
But I am only knitting my stories
With one needle,

For as long as you are
away.

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