i love every
beautiful, perfectly im-
perfect piece of you.
i love every
beautiful, perfectly im-
perfect piece of you.
seeing you happy
makes me happy– regardless
of where you’re rooted.
I get lost sometimes
in my love for you– it’s good
to find my way out.
every moment
I spend in your presence, makes
me more capable.
the stories i tell
myself– though elegantly
crafted, are not true.
even the shadow
of your love is the brightest
place I’ve ever been.
acknowledge what it
is that is truly sacred
in a ritual.
sometimes myself i
find, playing a waiting game,
dictated by you.
words are not always
given form… but constantly
echo through my mind.
i do not offer
you my hand because i think
you need it to stand…
nor does it seem your
fingers originate from
other than myself…
the edges of myself 