what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
but
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms
indistinguishable

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists

can they hear her heart?
the way it shatters
as it breaks

she tasted like droplets of honey,
her skin shimmered galaxies

I wish you knew —
when you hold me,
you're holding my heart too

before you —
I used to drown in my sadness
never letting anyone close enough
to touch me,
now I drown in you

I wonder if the cracks
in my heart
are glued with liquid gold
or strung together
like pieces of clothes
on a drying line

the beauty of a woman
is seen in her eyes
because that is the doorway
to her heart, the place where love resides

I admire women
who could've turned
cold after everything
they've been through
but still choose love anyway

there's strength in that

I envy the sun —
for it always rises