I have memories stitched into my sheets
Like a spider stitching its web
In the grey matter of my brain
Intricately
like how you weaved your fingers
into mine
Like our hands were two pieces to a puzzle
that you knew needed a place to fit.
My heart is swollen, my veins collapsed with beating red love for you.
My words they are not like other words.
they bleed.
They are ripped aching and fresh from my chest
And put in a box on the shelf for you to read later
My poetry is not just spoken in words, you can hear it in my silences, in my tears and in the way that I kiss your very lips.
It is my love I must share
The umbrella must reach the lengths of both of our shoulders.
We are the book I must write.
the future that is yet to be created.