Sometimes i am achingly, mind-numbingly, finger-tinglingly, heart-stoppingly, gigglingly aware of how in love i am. i feel her breathing under my skin, on my tongue; she swims through my hair and down my arms and i get her blushes tangled up around my feet. i hear her singing in my sleep and laughing every time i wake up. she is not just touching my hand with her hand, my nose with her nose, hip to hip when we curl up like kittens, but she’s reaching inside all the twisted ivy i have growing through my heartstrings, and she’s plucking them oh-so carefully, tuning me, stitching together my wounds, making new pottery out of my broken pieces. she is a prehistoric gem, a great archeological find buried under an eternity of inadequacy; her beauty will sink more ships than Helen’s eyes could ever dream of.
i am awash, a waste; i am blessed and blasphemous against her lips
(even the sky cries so hard when you leave, even the sun
forgets its place and stutters out an apology to this part of the earth
for taking you from me)
© 2013 Linette Reeman