Texture / by Mrin A

The effect of the contact between two elements – The bark of a tree exposed to air. Ripples in the sand, wrinkles in my dripping toes.
Texture is consequence.

Texture is the adaptability of matter.
Touching, and being transformed, pounded, beaten and eroded.
Antonym of inertia…

Look anywhere, at anything. There is a difference between a texture and a pattern. 
A pattern is a performance with a cast.
A texture is the self-mutilation of a single atom that slowly, painstakingly altered itself in and of itself to interface another.

Sand, beating itself into water shapes, proof that she did spend the tide.
Water too, creasing and waving to the groove of the celestial.
Salt, undulating foamy residual carpets over oceans.
Texture is a rhythmic abrasion.

Textures change and age over time, and sometimes combust also.

And so the flower is now a fruit.
The smooth bottoms of babies turn to saggy middle-aged thighs.
And textures may be subtle as the fine grain of my hair.
Texture is personality.

The wind tonight made room for my mind to wander. And I remembered the blows that cast this body blue. Each one altered the course of my present.

Texture is the blood that flows in beats and pumps in and out of your heart.
And texture is the riverbed of events that made you bleed and mend.