If I Ever Go Missing

If I ever go missing before we ever meet, 
Instead of telling you where I’m hiding, 
I will leave here what was left of me. 
I’m sorry, but you will not get
a single breadcrumb from me.
Maybe through torn maps, the blinding North star, 
and forest canopies, 
maybe through collecting my abandoned jewelry, 
you might be able to reach me. 
 
But I must warn you, 
I am a rock fallen out of orbit, 
born from dust polished by the seas of Neptune. 
I am a speck rolling in fire, washed into the night, 
a particle no one has beheld in existence; 
you need more than any number of eyes 
just to watch the sparks radiating from my bones 
and hidden memory. 
 
Before you go looking for me, 
don’t you ever glue pictures of my face 
on the walls of buzzing streets 
or any rugged bellies of these old, sorry trees; 
whoever sees them would never recognize me. 
Because I must warn you, 
my skin folds into comets and tails of lightning, 
at one touch their power will be as useless 
as the letter C in my first name, 
never owning a sound besides 
echoing letters S or K.
You might believe I was destined to stay here, 
but if taken into the glare of Mercury 
and a dip of sun spray, 
people here will already forget 
the pitch of my being --
failing to string together
the very cords in my throat. 
My friend, you should think twice 
before calling me into alleyways 
and chambers damp from mildew; 
I will be gone the second I hear you. 
 
But dear oh dear, 
you poor, clouded satellite 
trapped in rotation around my sphere of 
empty, empty, empty.
If you insist, 
if you want to finish getting to know me 
and my ever-dying abilities, 
there is a good chance that you can find me 
where the heart beats faster and the mind runs clearly. 
If you turn around, 
you might catch a glimpse of moonlight: 
Hold it close and you may hear 
the whispers of my aches and dreams. 
Speak softly now, 
you might scare the strength out of me. 
You'll never know where my thoughts will go next, 
just let me be the one driving this journey. 
 
If you wriggle me out of the earth, 
where my teeth have been fossilized to 
weigh me down on this short living of sky, 
don’t be quick to accept the feel of my company. 
Someday I'll return to the stars and sleep in the void, 
a place where I hope to find colors I've never seen before. 
And when I master the art of painting into the galaxies 
of pain and recovery, 
I will discover the truth in me. 
I will be free, I will be free. 
Let the constellations tattoo the spaces of my body. 
 
You say you have found me, 
I say I love to be missing 
with tiny bits flaking behind me, 
a shooting star playing chase with someone so naive
as to singe their astronaut screens --
All of this rocketing 
just to harvest specks rolling in fire, 
washed into the night, 
particles that no man has seen in the naked eye, 
and I, 
I will bestow this sight 
as an eternal gift to you. 
 
Let us stretch as far as cosmic lightning 
and nestle on the horizon of mother universe;
her waves of thunder, 
churning the starlight within our being, 
within whoever we are,
and we,
we will vanish the moment 
we hear a single call 
into the dark. 
 
This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

TheSoundofRain

This is great! Keep writing!

CindyUng

Thank you! I sure will!

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