As porous as air, sliced
Thin, I fall between
See you way over there perhaps, or
Not, maybe hear your quiet tears, at least,
The less of the time, so much more
The hands falling with gravity
Than fighting against it, upwards,
I slip bare between the molecules
where you are playing hide-and-seek,
No game, bobbing behind them,
Moving sad and slow, shrouded somewhere
Ahead, like life’s last breath.
Lanning Lee 