Preparatory

What if we held a scrap of the fabric of the world
And put it to our face to feel it’s ragged softness
I saw you standing in the library
Leafing through To The Lighthouse
I could’ve kissed you there
Ripped the pages from your spine
We could’ve killed each other
Changed each other
I’d wash your coffee stains off my sheet
But you put the book back and walked away
Now my hands are empty
Nothing to have or hold
But that’s just as well
For what would I do without this wanting?