TO ME, IT IS
A secret kept close to the heart beckons to be seen
Our bodies are electric oceans
Reading your palm and following its form—soft, hard, pointed and curved—topologies revealing who you have been and are being
My heart is a feather in the breeze
and you are a stone
Judgement disappears and reappears—of fleeting fears waiting for their chance to return
We’ll put each other in revealing positions, reserving parts for a later time. We’ll invite the evening shadows to rest and linger and we’ll place candles in the far corners of the room
I’ve been up all night,
thinking of you
and not thinking of you