I like to stand in the rain
and feel it's hands and feet against my face

And I like the feeling of mud between my toes.

It's like a personal baptism;
A rebirth more holy because
                           it came from Earth, to Earth.

And I like to hear your voice.

It calms me when I feel restless.
A quiet understanding between two people
like leaves swaying in the wind.

I imagine it is your fingers in my hair.

It breaks my heart
                                that you're still hurting
                                and that I'm still hurting
                and those crystalline blue and greens
      have retreated into the fog, again.

Stop relying on those straight lines;
They won't guide you home at night.

A moment of clarity shrouded in dusty
                                                           white--
                    It is not light,
          but a suffocating device
come to strangle you
               *(but that's exactly what you'd like.)

I was watching the constellations
                                                     fall
high above the atmosphere
         your telling words were
                      disappearing into

I wish I could have snatched them out of the air
and kept them safe with me.

She speaks to me in the secret language of lovers, singularly specific to our own bread of magic. The kind of magic that keeps loneliness at bay when one is alone. I understand that home is not a place, but an idea that I can carry with me when I begin to feel lost and when I long for a change of action (and reaction,) it is her words I understand most: that soothing knowledge of wisdom (for I only know it exists; I have never experienced it myself.)

My soul is lighter for it.

you left a bruise on my lips
the first time we met.
                              A crash-and-burn type of
                                         introduction.

you left a bruise on my soul
the first time you left
                               before I realized I was leaving
                                                     too

those bruises all
            have yellowed
            and healed.
Sometimes
                   I still feel
your chaos clawing at my bones

That I have the privilege
to know a true goddess
Who walks among us,
and carries our stones too,
Is the sweetest honey
made with gentle care
by the buzzing universe

Sometimes, I simply feel
compelled to share.

Transparent
                                              crystalline
                                              glass body
                                              hollow prism
let light in
               and let
                            fracture