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