may 3

I feel the rhythm of your life

through the pulse of your chest against my cheek,

and still you ask me:

‘what is life?’

‘what is existence?’

if I knew, I think

I’d be no better off –

and why ponder the complexities

of reality and humanity

when there is warmth and instinct,

bodies tucked against each other

like fate willed it?

I ask nothing in return but this:

n’oublies pas.