Identities

I am not myself today. I am a feather. And one of your back's moles.
I am where I want to be.
I am the air particle your nose inhales. The chords of your unfinished compositions.

I am who I want to be.
The brown leaves in the path that leads you to my door. The strings of your guitar.
And wherever I am, you are around.

I am the subtlety of your indiference.
The moving shadow of your lonliness. The faceless entity you dreamt about last night.
I am both: your bravery and your fears.

I might also be the cloud that won't let you see the blue skies,
your bread and your wine
I am the lover you want to love when you are loving someone else.

I am your sigh, your gun and your bullets
your Monday hangover
the doubt behind all your certainties.

I am the shy breeze that kisses you when you lay on the grass
the tear running down your cheek
I am your agony, your death rattle, your ultimate vital sign.

I am the one who knows who you are.