the edges of myself

words, words, words

the truest romance

born of spit and grass stains

mirrored feet and an ease

that exudes timelessness

and whispers

of the infinite.


languid days of smiles

and symmetry

harmonious melody

grounded in familiarity–

like the comfort of an old pair of jeans,

softened and worn in the perfect places–

a childhood photo, fuzzy at the edges,

its indelible image emblazoned.


the casual tenderness

that comes with the passage of time–

whispered grazes and

seeking fingers

charted footsteps– allowing space.


i remember when you asked to hold my hand–

before our fingers recalled

they were of one another.


i recall the first time i saw myself

through your eyes–

staring back at me

was you.

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