Thine I

When I hear the
sound you make,
inside your "I"
rattling from the
deep, a croak,
paroxysms happen
in my heart.

Every harsh thought
melts. Images of your
wide mind,
transmit to me.
I can see

how far it stretches,
all the places, the
taste of all those tastes,
and hear "hello"
as endearment says it.

When you speak thine "I,"
that is the most
fragile part, the part
that will vanish. I walk
with you down the
corridor inside you.
When you point out the
treasures on the walls.
I look mistily,

dear structure,
crystal of my heart.