Folded Skin

Our eyelids slowly fold,

your fingernails creasing my skin

as you tell me not to cry.

Suppressed by geometry,

there's no room for imprecision

in our origami sorrow.

There will come a day,

when wet and wrinkled,

our tears will finally fall.

Passionately we’ll surrender.

Wading through waste paper,

we’ll sigh before we die.