Hey my love, let’s build something here
where the sun still shines and our hearts are clear,
and the bees are humming our favorite songs;
and I woke up this morning and where you should be
I saw hope and I kissed it hello because
I’ve always had so many missing parts
and I only now see that the spaces are holy
and they are where you echo and I will be explored
every day with your sweet apple hands.

We are black fingered spiders spinning gold webs
and we won’t settle for catching houseflies, darling,
we only want butterflies and blue stars
and I could sit here and count the ways
that you make my lips and my feet go numb
but I don’t want to waste any seconds that
might be making sparks, and when you’re this close
my bones are air and the ink on my tongue tastes sweet, not bitter,
and I would bottle this love if I could
and get drunk on it every night when you’re gone,
sipping it in the dark in the empty libraries beneath my feet,
whispering to the quiet books, telling them everything
about the thunder that our hands can make
and every day I wait to find out if I am still steady and hard
and lined with the stinging dust of pride.

You are peace like the way blankets fold,
the way falling leaves seem to be flying,
and you are every star in the sky
no matter where my feet are buried in the earth’s bones,
and just like that I am never lost and we are sailors,
lone and drifting and singing and this warm sea is ours
and I think it’s time we dive a little deep,
I think it’s time we burn this house down
and write about the dreams we see in the flames.
You are gravity and sense and the way a magnet feels north
and the way my feet kiss and ground and you are the reason
I spend hours talking with the birds about the way it feels to fly.