It is the silence that I find
most frightening-
those frozen moments where
dissecting oneself
feels inevitable.

Today is among
the many
where I’d like to be
a non-entity-
tear away fingerprints
and lose identity
in the haze.

I oscillate between
wanting to burn
behind every pair of lips
my name grazes
and hoping to be reduced to
unrecognizable ash.

As spring loses herself
in the death of a season,
I watch, enraptured,
and wait for the
chiarascuro of the heart
to define me.