I find myself very rarely. Mostly at night, when the sky is deep and dense and dark, a warm womb to swallow me up and show me things I cannot see in the light.
Sometimes I find myself when I am with you.
In the early morning when the sky is at its purest, and I can watch you in a state of wonder, of amazement as your profile is silhouetted against the sun.
I find myself when I am with you, truly with you.
When we are alone and I am free to touch, to taste, to dream, to topple along the edge of fear.
You make me feel light. And not the empty, rattling light that I have grown so used to,
But the kind of light with wings.
YOU ARE READING
whole
Poetryhis skin is liquid gold in my hands and yet i am the one who is melting
