The wind screams … the leaves dance … my hair claws at my face.
No. that’s not right, it can't be
I'd rather it be your hand, in mine;
The tropical breeze grazing our skin and the moon shines high above us.
People screaming … the words like razors … barbed wire holding us down.
The bird's melody is in the air, their songs guiding me to sleep.
You twirl my hair through your fingers; trace the line of my jaw,
Whispering words I cannot hear but transform my cries into songs.
You are my train, my plane, my shoes; you take me away from here,
The place of all the anger, hurt, and anxiety.
You allow me to be in another world,
The place of us in love, in sunlight, and free.