I know the strength of my own voice,
It cracks frequently, words have weight,
and are weapons if thrown at the right angle,
so I stay left.

Anything I’ve ever tried to let go of has claw marks.
Anything I hold grows roots around my bones,
keeping me together since I learned to live split.
Come here,
I want to kiss all your scratches.

I know getting this far
was a tightrope walk over a chasm.
That you break apart
and ignore your whole image
but I look at you,
and see all the ways a soul can illuminate,
yours lights lanterns in all my dark places,
You burn.

I know
there will always be more questions
than answers in my mouth,
but if you are sure of nothing else,
whether it is days you
out blaze the sun
or nights you shatter yourself
into pieces for later collection,


I will love you when gathered and still.  
I will love you when you are a storm.

I don’t know any other way.