Learn

I want to understand you as a bridge riddle and is midmorning torture that leaves me grabbing the glass, hoping to know which languages your tongue knows. 

I am going to dementia to keep hoping that I will figure out what is that you say with your signs and twisted smile. But I am desperate in that I sit and take the time to read word for word to find out where you come from. 

I want to cherish you as if you were the last gift to earth because I have sinned before. I have loved with these criminals hands and I haven’t hurt anyone else but me. That is why I need to know where those laughs you know come from, in order to understand every change of mood as if you were a backwards clock and it's madness. 

But I want to love you as if I didn’t have to fear the ghosts that still murmur tragedies when I seek to accept that you exist when my sentence hasn’t ended. 

TA.