Sparkatale

Let's just leave it at that
Let's just let all of the traces sink in
The traces which wouldn't ever lead us someplace
bliss, or tragic, or even just some place 
How could I even call something as simple as a touch a trace?
Is it because my eyes can see the parts on my clothes
Where your fingers had touched them
And how they feel alive
Like how the sleeves leaves burns on my wrists
Whenever I wear it 
There were an awful lot of those things
I can see them in the air between us
How could you have been sitting next to me?
And how could we never have spoken significant matters?
All there is is how I can see the trace
I can see the beauty of how vastness can form between two people
seperated by the sum of the lengths of my fingers 
Fingers that grip on my pen
Pens that have written my name
Names that were never spoken out loud
Loud, like how we are not
Loud, like how a thing that matters talk
See, we might have had significant matters in between
Between names, yours... that didn't even come directly from you
And all the other things I've learned about you
That are not from you, 
That are from the traces I've fed through silence,
Those atmospheres of muteness that create significance
And I've seen more
Like traces of split seconds our eyes gaze through one another
And traces of quick verses between question and answer
Traces of how your voice might have sounded, or how mine would have had
Whenever you talk to him, or her, or them
And how I talk to her, or him, or them
Of how we talk to other people 
And not to each other 
about each other
I could just leave it at that
I could just let all the traces sink in
I have learned your name and I have spoken it at nights I am alone
I have not been too loud, but then again, you haven't been too
And there may have been a significant amount of significance 
in the atmosphere the size of the sum of the lengths of my fingers between us
And my sleeves always reached halfway through my hand and 
sometimes it becomes hard to write with this pen
and this pen would sometimes slip off my fingers
and my fingers had never touched yours
And I can say traces as much as I want 
I can say traces as much as I want
But I can only feel and everyone else cannot see
So maybe we can just leave it like that
Maybe all those traces have sank in too deep they have buried themselves
Maybe they should be lost rather than lead us to some place
But maybe, just maybe... those traces could have formed something beautiful above else