you remind me of entire worlds
still talking in sign-language;
of a time when the only way to communicate
was by tracing every fold on your forehead
with my nose-
like a love letter written in
we spoke much like the stars do
from a distance of a million miles-
by bending the light around our lips,
and watching it get lost
in a stranger’s hair.
your words are still searching for
a semblance of familiarity
on my tongue.