I spent the day
humming the hymnals of spring rain
of rebirth as I washed up to my elbows in dirt
reminded of how unassuming a tangle of roots can be
and the way rosemary smells like a violin sounds
That being kissed by the soil, cradling a cheek with a swipe
is more fulfilling
than I’ll ever
be able
to articulate

human beings were made to be touched
softly
with such devotion and reverence
and maybe a little awe
tracing the littlest scrapes
scars & freckles
like the shrines of every idol
to worship at the throne of messy hair
and drums of heartbeats
synced to a choir I only hear
when they say my name

there is such a difference between laying the cutlery out on the table for everyone to see
and putting it back in the box, dropping it outside, and writing a ‘free sign’ — laying it down, and letting it go

feels lighter
free

I hated the set anyways

echo the sounds my heart makes
when the rain beats outside
humming along to a song I know not
but the bass line
and that it never
ends

and thank god for that

I don’t know what you call it
when you throw the glass
with a broom already in hand
maybe I just wanted to know
if it would make a sound
when I simply can’t.

we both were screaming
to pick up more speed
running from ourselves
in the ******* getaway car
hoping to crash

he played with my hair
as we talked
and I swear I could spend hours listening to him ramble on
like he isn’t the first person I peek around the corner to see his reactions

and they looked at me like I had another head
when I shrugged
because I don’t find that he speaks slow
he speaks
with intention, waltzing between heartbeats
or checking his steps
so I can catch my breath
in between the murmurs of mine