I didn't expect to hear a heartbeat, or if I did
Not one that sounded as mortal as mine
A clock ticking away the precious moments in between each
far gone breath
Dragging itself reluctantly into the future.
Hands opening wide to allow time for everything in-between
Every if, every why, every sigh letting mother nature know
that
She could still take your breath away even as she came
rushing towards you with her big
Mouth wide open, blowing sweet kisses of reassurance that
you
Would not be forgotten. That you were her chosen son.
I didn't expect you to engulf me so eagerly, your roots
Digging solid foundations into the trenches I spent so much
time seeing as a prison
I needed to climb out of. You see, sometimes we get so busy
growing up
That we forget to grow in, to grow down—and I think that’s
we have so many sad people
Expecting a sunlight that touches skin, but to begin
externally is not to learn
That the sun is but a catalyst for our ready-made
preparations
And I’m forever grateful for the wars I fought to dig a
space you could come and fill
To help me grow.
At night I lay at the bars of your own prison, entrapping
the beat up victim
of too many unrequited “I want you’s”
of too many “I need
you’s”
of too many “I love you’s.” And I wait,
Like the limited visitor that I am
for the guards to let me in, to begin the process
of repeating the braille love language I carve deep into
your eyelids each night
to guide your way back home.
To remind you of your innocence. Of the non-guilty verdict. Of hope.
Of the heat of my palm against the glass.
To know
It could be so warm. I once heard is said that
women freeze because they were born to be givers, their heat
betraying them
to protect the fruit they would one day bear
But you share your heat so willingly, I can’t help but think
we’re all just
A bunch of Russian dolls fitting in and taking care of one
another
to cover the parts we can’t do by ourselves.
The parts we don’t want
to do by ourselves.
Which of course makes all the difference.
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