I was born twice,
once when the moon
was burning up
and then again,
when you whispered
my name for the first time.

I pressed a flower
in a book
to mark the date
when you hung
words, lost
somewhere in
my shelter.

I felt then
alive
for the first time
since I took that
primordial breath
and  lungs expanded,
I was hoping
you’d stay.

They say,
all that glitters is not gold
but your new wave voice
sent shivers down my spine
and I spent
what seemed like
an eternity
trying to shed my skin.

But then,
I was nothing
if not a bundle
of nerves & ashes
and you let me
exit.
Mind the door,
lest it hit in you on the way out