Bubbles

Let me wrap myself in a bubble,
and I will work on beautifying those voices in my head and from your lips.
Hopefully,
with this sheer cell-wall like frosted thin layer,
with this membrane,
nobody, nobody, not even you, sees me with complexion, but
a contour, a silhouette, a shadow.
Smile or frown, sweet or sorrow
are all in a blur, unclear, mystified.

Let me wrap you in a bubble,
then you can do whatever you want to do and
pretend to undo what you consider a bad decision.
Perhaps,
you may even reboot the situation, change your default setup,
change the look, the coolness to the initial state of purity, the default setting.
There I would not be in the picture,
there I would not have written the letter,
there I did not appear in the ball game we met,
there I was demolished with that deep dive from the roof, and
there I laid still and would never wake up, walk around and make a sound.
Thence you would feel no presence of mine.
Therefore you could focus on what is on your mind.

It is all in your bubble and mine.
Everything will be translucently segregated and protected
within the bubbles;
The membrane wrapping us up may be found
on the surface of our bodies as well.
Something called callus attached onto what used to be smooth.

Nothing brutal, candid, focused, nothing see-through.