I want to hold the back of your head,

and pull your mouth into mine.
I taste you.
I taste you.

Baby, your soothing lips taste of bitter coffee and mint.
Your beard tickles my face.
I smile against your mouth,
I move to the tender hollow of your neck,
and amidst the sweet cosset of my lips,
I whisper,
“We can't stay long.”

Our longing held captive by a relentless hurricane.

Yet, we’ll find our way.

I'll see you soon in the eye of the storm.

I teeter along a rickety old rope bridge,

high above savage waters.



I stop when I reach the center.



I look down between a gap in the wood planks.



This was a mistake.

I begin to shake.



I gaze behind me.

I see those gnarled, thorny

branches overlaying the foot of this bridge and beyond.



I stare intently at these heaps of thorns,

thinking of the number of times they sliced me,

how much I bled as I made my way here.



I glance down at my collection of cuts and scars.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply.


I am a survivor.



I

   Am

      Alive.



I open my eyes and look ahead.

I see a path, and though it is vast and grueling,

I know it leads to a different place whence I came.

New is good enough.




I hold my breath.

I take my next step.

I want to tell you
that I can do without you.
But I'd be lying.