i like the way
this porch feels precarious
when softness spills into five am air,
words I don't want others to hear
kept between palms and cement.
stillness is my hands breathing you in,
listening for secrets along the creases of your skin...

the neighbors are rustling,
they apologize for interrupting
what can only be described as holy quietude.
We laugh in the moon's golden greys,
surprised anyone is able to see us at all.
I have travelled endless places
just sitting here with you.