You are the skin and the veins,
the bold pain and the concern.
You are the antidote on a gloomy day
and the lingering smell of the cigarette.
You are the sweet feeling of the rain
and the serene nerves suddenly in shock.
However, you are not the narrator of the story.
the embers on the floor,
or the consistency of inconsistency.
And you are certainly not the passing trend.
There is just no way you are the passing trend.
It is possible that you are the writing under the surface,
maybe even the imperfections on the weathered skin,
but you are not even close
to being the shadow of ambiance at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the innocence in the corner
nor the calm projected in its stare.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of fingertips sliding across the smooth steel.
I also happen to be the fragile soul,
the eager girl drifting down the slide,
and the result of the years on a troubled path.
I am also the awaited moment of clarity
and the antiqued man’s cheerful eyes.
But don’t worry, I am not the skin and the veins.
You are still the skin and the veins.
You will always be the skin and the veins,
not to mention the bold pain and—somehow—the concern.
Written by Alyssa Browne and Tesia Tang
Inspired by Litany by Billy Collins
