Arrival

Like the blood running in my veins –

lethargically, sluggishly;

like a good wine - slowly seeping in my brain,

without an aura,

like a black cup holding and hiding the light of the flame,

you are here but not here.

And slowly you penetrate into my consciousness,

unwelcomingly.

But what do I do with your arrival?

Am I ecstatic? Am I miserable?

Am I in love? Am I in the aftermath of a love that’s over now?

Am I still yours? Am I your left-over?

Am I claimed? In what way?

Who am I to you? Who am I becoming to myself?