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a​í​sth​ē​sis

from my song is love by A. Falomo

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Exercise: here is a map,
point, to where love is

Hint: love is.
love is a city

made entirely of bubbles
built in the sky.

Fact: most people try
to touch it before it disappears

Question: how do you locate a place
that no longer belongs on
a map? I don't know, I can't tell.
I can't tell if I have been
here before, but i like it
here, it feels like somewhere
I can lay my head, sleep

and not worry whether
they (whoever they are) will
come to
burn our city to the ground

My heart is a fickle
builder, it's always
building sand castles that
crumble far too soon

but this city, of buildings
with towers that ever point
skyward, stands

and refuses to crumble

My point is this:

it has not always been like this
I could not always
point. (I) still cannot
point to the where
or the when

that was the start to this
but I started to notice
the way our bodies

spoke in ways our
mouths did not yet
have a language for,

how, we, with our hugs
would linger
a second or two longer
than we would before

as if to say:
it's okay,
it's okay,
you can stay

It seemed like there was a lot
we were trying to say

Say, for example,

That night,
when you let me touch
Your hair
Or rather
when I did, at first
Without permission,
And then again
After I asked

what I didn't say
was that
my hands wanted to touch
More than just
Your hair

what I didn't say
was that I felt a certain
kind of honor to run through
my fingers individual
strands of what happens
to be the most noticeable
thing about you,

the only thing that most
will ever get to know
about you unless they choose
to come a little closer

I didn't really know much
about you. You didn't really
know much about me either.

We've always seen
each other from afar
but we both chose
to step a little closer

We talked

about your hair
And the journey
that it - much like you
and I - has taken

I listened. I heard

I touched
your earlobes

and so we talked
about your favorite color
and your earrings

Small, almost unnoticeable
much like I imagine the world
makes you feel sometimes

When again it does,
when you do,
I'll offer to hold
you in the palms of my hands

My hands, though not entirely small, are still trying
to find their place in this vast world,
so it shouldn't be a surprise that
they wandered to your thighs

long after we had talked
about our favorite parts
of our bodies

I suppose they wanted
to feel what you felt

when you, with so much
pride, announced
your thighs as one
of yours

My hands, oh my hands,
they wanted to touch
The rest of you

My lips
wanted to touch
yours, and taste

the many words we left
unspoken

even though
we spoke for hours

about things
that mattered
and things
that frankly did not

I don't know
if it matters
that at first
I was afraid

but there is still so much
to touch on about our lives
that Father time will have to allow us

so, when that time comes,
if that time comes,
I want you to know how much
it matters that I am no longer
afraid

to reach out and touch
the rest of you - the parts
that most won't notice,

the parts you wouldn't
dare share with anyone else

I've spent my whole life
chasing the wind, attempting to
grasp something worth holding
on to; something that's always
been within reach

I suppose it was always you

credits

from my song is love, released February 14, 2016

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about

A. Falomo Houston, Texas

...is a/an: Nigerian. poet - who uses his pen as a shovel to unearth those things that make us human. lover: of almonds. the color blue. hymns. grapes. conversations. and turkey bacon. TEDx speaker. author of the collection of poems titled "thread, this wordweaver must!". dreamer. American. He enjoys walking. and talking to himself. which he does...a lot. ... more

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