I want to unfold. I don’t want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am untrue.
Your becoming is inevitable
Create to calm the boil
This will thaw out the numb spirit
Before floods of laughter
And a hundred posies full of kisses
There will be nights turning into loneliness
You will go from soft to brittle then soft again
You’ll learn grief is a horrible thing
that cooks anger and serves sadness
But you will rebuild yourself into something better
And you will find a new way to breath
Then you will fly and fly away
Having experienced both, I am not sure which is worse: intense feeling, or the absence of it.
“I want to see you.
Know your voice.
Recognize you when you
first come ‘round the corner.
Sense your scent when I come
into a room you’ve just left.
Know the lift of your heel,
the glide of your foot.
Become familiar with the way
you purse your lips
then let them part,
just the slightest bit,
when I lean in to your space
and kiss you.
I want to know the joy
of how you whisper