You complete me in every sound you now mouth, every movement of your tongue, every muscle’s adjustment to effect fresh shape to each phrase, in every quick, shallow breath giving sudden pause and turn to the next silence.
You complete me at this reading. I had been deaf to the closing, blind to the ending you now gift me and ignorant of the next stair with no balustrade to steady where you leave the first me to rise to find, first-hand, the landing that now completes me.
triggered by Walt Whitman's 'To You'. "...now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem..."