Writing to shelter a soul
a hidden compartment to a sacred solace,
a piece of something unspoiled,
spectacular and shadowless
I’m writing with a sense of urgency,
an unidentifiable need for you to see
all that you’ve shut your eyes to
What is real?
I realize a longing embrace
only comforts me when
I’m ready to face you
I face you
and see myself in your eyes
Your bright, honest, loving eyes
reflect back at me, a love I chose
let destroy me
and piece me together
with missing parts
I’m brought back
being tugged roughly backwards in time
remembering the swing set, night birds and
a foreign woman’s nursery rhymes.
I face you
no longer in solitude.
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