There was a time I hadn't met eyes with you.

Starry it was before and simply galaxies after.

You begin to realize love is a home, no longer a word or two syllables.

The shy kiss, the blurting of I love you.

Being the voice when the other cannot speak.

Tears & sobs catching at the hinges of swollen throats when you both know it is time to let go.

And let go as we may, but I'll hold on to what we have made.

You forgot to pull out the blunt knife you put in her left shoulder-blade.

She's not all sharp edges, rusted metal & stale blood that you hoped for.
She's all more than that.
She is *alive.

What if flowers bloom in fire & glass-jars?

Perhaps, in muted sunshine, melding with peaks of incandescence & fire-flies, something indestructible will be left.

claustrophobia is
screaming
and hearing
your own cries
echo back.