an echo of a thought

i have made
a career out of
tiptoeing
in between the
drops of rain

careful to leave
everything
undisturbed

i shimmer
viridescent
in oscillating
pinwheels
refracting the light
making it bend
around me

the secret to
a good illusion
is to never
really exist
in the first place
no one cares
when you disappear

and i have made
an existence out of
never truly
existing except as
phantom kisses
on the back
of your neck
or the winsome echo
of my breath
traveling the length
of your leg

tiptoeing between
rays of golden light
a shadow
just out of time
with all of the
manic spinning
and axial tilt

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