It is with an overabudance that I
into your being.
Soft smiles, an softer hands, catch up all m wonder at you and collect under that wisome chin to pool in the space betwe the smooth skn of you collaring bones.
To slowly trickle down, tentative drops, turning rivlet- into your being.
Brigh eyes fil me, snare me, and I am
Caught, but silent. Meshing pulling tigher, held by the washin ebbing waves of your beauty.
I have no desire to escape and so,
stand (if impatienly,; though still, standing)
I feel those eyes, those eye - see too much, too deep
and I want to hide,
burrow deeply-through, pungent damp foliage, turning to mold
feeling of moss- to escape those deep seeing eyes; that so quickly, and harshly, beautifully fierce made my light shine for you.
My heart tumbles awkwardly up my throat, past close teeth to tentatively beat at my lips. Quivering vulnerabilities with caught breath.
Sure it will find a home in those bright eyes -
-but it teeters when those eyes turn from windows to mirrors and my own need or your distance send me
Annd I don't know which one is true, but my free fall is real. And I am scarred. And scared of heights and needs be rooted to the earth. And terror capsizes my heart, sends it reeling back down to thump in my chest like a broken wild bird that wants not its cage but knows not how to fly; so beats and claws and breaks until both it and its cage are slightly, broken.
Words you say turn stories, that pour over my being, filling me up, welling me out, till there is nothing but you, in the smooth skin, of my collaring, bones.