Love

Like a Bird

I hold us with an open hand.
As she lays wet and heavy, poignant.
Like an evening sky, twilight.
But you can neither tell how black is the night
nor how light is the dawn.

She promises sincere mischief,
whatever that means.
She clasps like a lover.
She bites like a mistress.
She promises she will kiss the old me.
And asks whether I will kiss the old her.

I hold her with an open hand.
She eats me whole.

I have been looking at things wrong.
Like a bird in the sky,
as wide and as high I can,
but only as wide and only as high I can.

She flies elsewhere, rides the winds I do not follow.
She jumps into the cold water, wet feathers.
She zips through the flames, making do.
I cannot, have never have. She does, and I watch.

Where one flies has never mattered, I forget.
How one flies matters though, perhaps.
I trip for her unrelenting spirit,
the one that builds its air and endures, alone.

I have been looking at things wrong, like a bird.
I cannot plan which arrow brings me down.
And when it does, I collapse into the shuddering depths,
like a cannonball ripping my insides as my world comes crashing down.
Only to be rebuilt in her glorious fields of gold.

I’ll be a cloud tonight.
Living in your smouldering kiss.

I want more. More of everything.
Rapture. Everything is all yours.
Except me. I am mine. You are yours.

And when we push hard against each other and our worlds stop as we push and push harder wanting to melt into this moist wholesomeness called us but you are powerful and so am I and all we have is this mad storm blinding everyone and everything except for the cave that we have clawed through to spend the night in, huddled close, naked and shivering, excited for time is less, gentle caressing our tired limbs and licking our sweaty skin, kissing our lush lips and sucking on the sugary sweetness, honeyed dew of a stolen dawn.

When the sun is up again and the storm subsides, we know we have to spread our massive wings again, step out and be what we are.
We will not have it any other way.

What are my words?
Permission to hold your mind. The way I would, in person.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.