I want to be promised
My hand I am
so wet
the simultaneous breaths
are soaking
the grass
and everything
and everything
else is purple.
The soil beneath our feet
The soil is purple.

I write to you
every day
I do
and that is an image
just like a face
is painted
on a face.

No one says
like you
is like film
an elastic membrane
indolent lecherous
and all over
like me
like the skin
the skin is
working, burning
and there’s blood
in everything
and we are. Blood
and filled with blood
and the sun is noisy
and our mouths
are both snails
and shells.

It is scary
not to receive an answer
because I am hungry
and my hunger
is feed with
my hunger.

Today everybody’s eyes are beautiful
today everybody’s eyes mine our eyes
and your fingers are my fingers are yours

like two hundred tongues
like two hundred tongues
setting the sun.

And I predict the sorrow
because I expect too much
and because I am prepared.
The first word is always

What you just read
is also me
and with my darkest ugliest
and most scary voice
I say I
love you
and then silence falls
from a night from a stone from
your back
from the stone’s back.



Line Toftsø is a Danish poet and artist. She lives in Copenhagen. The photograph above is hers.