Wind

The wind hesitates
As it probes my tired skin
For answers
And tries to decode words
On my lazy sighs

It senses a spark underneath
And wraps me in
Before I can set myself on fire

Her length lends itself to my hands
As I reach out
To sweep stale memories
And brush away the flaky past

She initiates conversations
In a voice that sounds like me
Using thoughts for words
And faces for needs

I hesitate too
To look at what remains
When the dust of the world
Is blown off my skin
And I can no longer hide