day 17: sand to pearl
Turning these grain of sands around and around in my head. Pressing and moulding them together so that it becomes an imperfect pearl.
Small crumbs of nothing to form a fantasy so irridescent it's hard to look away from.
Adding new grains, slowly. Today, one that causes me to shrink away. My slow hands, my slow lips. Remind me to breathe. Remind me to speak. Hands clasped a milisecond too long.
I felt the weight of the vessel as it passed from my hands to yours.
I could not stop looking at your hands. Blunt wide fingers. Pale. Like the moon.
No words. Was it a slight or did I secretly want one, or two