Mai Flowers

why do I choose to break my own heart?
so many clever excuses.
I leave them behind like shiny traces
left by gliding snails, gliding in grass that is greener
everywhere but home.
how slow they move.
slow, slow, always forwards just to leave behind, behind.
How did I become a dream of mine?
In an endless sky I hang and vapor all around me.
condensation of memories.
carried by drafts with no direction.
waiting for a blow.
when, lying in late mai flowers, warm breezes made me drowsy.
I stopped talking.
I internalized,
I swallowed words like bitter medicine.
dissolving what was left of those mai flowers.