Oxygen to Embers, Revisited

With what little you offer

I restore years of wandering

Neither are you oxygen nor ember

But your hollow outline, poses my muse

From some desolate shore you keep me tethered

While I work into the night, arranging lightwood and tinder

With the sole purpose of allowing space

To host heat to become fire

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I'm not ready for immersion but the feeling of these damp steps beneath me will become a perennial part of my being. I lift heavy hands to mouth thinking only about breaking suddenly into from veganism to vegetarianism. I taste nothing new. The sensation of being relinquished and forgotten here, deep in the fall, will stay with me for years. 

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I don’t want to kiss you

But the memory of a kiss lights our outline.

We are newborn friends with matching hips

And I feel your ascending exterior as we continue to turn.

Rounding each corner becomes better than the kiss 

It becomes the kiss,

The opening of doors:

One at the cheek

One at the belly

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Speaks Your Name

 About longing for subtleties

(Because every sip of you stirs deep)

 About experiencing dawn in slow motion

(Because knowing you reminds me to note every shift in color and light)

About yielding to the sweetness of beginning

(Because every song now speaks your name)

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