invisible ink

your skin looks like dried-up paper with ink
blotches that i can’t read. the letter you

sent me fades away at the very end like
the color of your eyes. it’s okay, i know you

want me to understand the difference
between losing hair and losing joy that you

give me. the saddest part of it all is the
way i paint your nails and write stories that you

tell me in the dreams that you sent. i don’t
know where you are, but dear youth,

let me

By Uma Menon