Before,
before I was a desolate spirit,
Before,
before when the cold streams of the hills
were the only touch I knew,
Before,
before when I hadn’t known you,
Before
before…

It’s a shock that I haven’t quite forgotten you
among the other things discarded
(the wind in the bamboo
and the scent of vapor on our lips
the biting cold, the biting frost
and the sound of our legacy,
the distant storm of disaster…)

It’s a shock that you didn’t forget me
among the other things left behind
(blood down my fingers in yours
the weightlessness of the below
the curses laid upon your skin
and the scars that dot mine,
the roar of the night under you…)

After,
after was all a blur.
After,
after it doesn’t even feel real,
After,
after you left…
After.
after.

after.