What sort of eyes should I look at you with
How can I grope your lips
fearfully, joyfully, surprisingly
What sort of hands should I hold you with
For fear that your alabaster body
may crack
For fear that someday I may lose you
and lose myself.
I want to place you somewhere high
where no one else’s look can touch you
I want to place you somewhere secretly
just like an ornament
So that I can be the only one looking at you
(as if you were a reflection of a mirror)
For fear that the fog may ever touch you
For fear that you may get dusted
from the embers
of time.