sometimes my brain forgets it's connected to a body,
my body

i'm constantly confusing ethereal with earthly
spinning out and shipping off in my mind,
but it seems my body has other plans

the two don't often get along
my mind says run when my body wants to rest
my body is foreign to me in this way

but i'm liking being native to yours
somehow, darling, our intertwined fingers are the thread
connecting the scattered, tangled, hopeful, wandering parts of me

your kisses are eloquence

fluent in languages we can't seem to speak yet,
your lips speak silently, and all i want to do is listen

kiss me enough, and i'll write a book with the sentences and paragraphs we spin when we're alone

i'll name all of the chapters after words we invent
and in the dedication,
our handwritten names in scrawling ink

just promise to kiss me enough
to fill a library

a little while ago
i dreamed of you
we were dancing in the middle of the room
a room filled with tiny lights and budding flames

once we danced in the woods
you had kissed me then, and i had
laid my head on your shoulder.
i joked that we were dancing with no music
and you told me that we were dancing to the song of life

i laughed a little bit at that, but you only smiled and pulled me closer

there are often times
when my mind becomes changed
no longer a slow-moving stream
but a waterfall, a crashing wave, a white hot rapid

i do not turn my body to a boat
my skin does not become the sail
to carry me upstream
against the flow of my rushing mind

rather
i watch the eyes of another
observe their hands, their smile
for knowing the veridity of their being
turns the rapids to mist

he took stella to a planetarium
it was clever, he said, and she,
eyes soft,
agreed