a packet of camels

I want to be alone walking down the street
in the summer, somewhere where it is still summer,
light a cigarette, unattached to the consequences, and ponder.
maybe just for a fraction of a second I could be free.
nobody would see me and I would see no one.

I would wear only a white t-shirt, a pair of old washed denim, and sneakers.

a wristwatch, my hair down, untamed.

I'd look like everyone else, a faceless crowd, a nameless person.
this desire of being invisible, where does it come from?
would I feel closer to the almighty if I was no longer visible to the rest?
maybe the dead don't come back because there's something so enchanting
about the newfound eternity of freedom–
I could choose, of course. I could always choose to disappear.
what holds me back is exactly the same that doesn't let me
light the cigarette.

beacon

you know I love you, right?

there's too many things I hide from you to make it work–

like the person I am and the person I could be don't work together.

but I love you, and there's a third person when I'm with you, 

the one that sleeps through the night and wakes up and looks for your hand

the one that gets your clothes ready in the morning and packs your lunch

and I love you, dearly, and when I look at you

I love you even more;

do you look at me and think we're drifting apart?

do you look at me and understand?

do you look at me frustrated, clueless, lost?

am I a beacon, am I blinding, am I the light?

we can stare at each other,

there's sweetness in your greenish-brown eyes

there's sweetness in my icy cold hands.

hold me, we'll understand, somehow, someday.