I must have written you poems/
In my lonely sleep
To wake up feeling
Like comparing life to wine vinegar
=
And, threatening to change my mind/
On dying young –
I must have had some
Epiphany between, suicide attempts
To threaten the universe/
With a big black-hole love
That broke the laws
Of my morning dark –
(
It wasn’t every day/
That invoked your virgin lap
I need to be slapped
From some maker’s room
Where you thought of me/
And it made me think of you –
I must have left the door
To my heart, ever so slightly-ajar
)
Turning down the dark hall/
In the middle of the night
To crash into you, I guess
It was just meant to be.
Wuji Seshat 