The quiet after the storm
sleeps in your chest
like gliding bird wings
after facing the wind
Your treasure chest
flows like
hidden oceans
folding your breath into
bed sheets
Warm,
my tongue will travel
like ribbons through
the cages of your heart
tying knots and bows
the same colour
as your
as your secret bruises,
the ones they don’t see
The quiet after the splendid storm
sleeps in your chest
you keep it there,
it is yours