Push me up against a wall and watch me flower. I thrive in tight spaces, under rocks, and behind shadows. If you look closely, you’ll see I’m deliberately leaning into the confinement, allowing the pressure to mold me. I’m pliant enough to enjoy it.

She was drawn to the center of the valley, where the night’s coolness lingered at sunrise. The sun lifted above the surrounding mountain peaks, silhouetting the hikers perched on bouldered precipices. Grounding herself into the concave depression, she closed her eyes as the others marveled at the sun. Her light was dawning within her.

Time travel and soul eyes swirling in a maelstrom of confusion. What is me and what is you and what is the merging between us. Drop your wingmen and speak into nothingness, letting the stardust settle into spirals. There we’ll find the truth.

Your rose petals litter the path ahead of me. Each time I spot a blush-colored oval, I run to the floral offering, taking in its sweet aroma before bathing my cheek in its soft delicacy. I’ll swear the one petal is all I need, but soon enough, I’m looking down the path for future silky delights. Will you tell me which one is your final offering, so I can savor it especially? I may have collected petals from dozens of roses, but the present one is always the most precious.

You grabbed me by the hair and led me out behind the woodshed. In the morning, you took in my purple eye, my lacerated arms, and my winced movement, and asked what had happened to me.

Your storm rolled in last night and caught me in its vortex. In the morning, you took in the downed tree limbs, the upturned picnic table, and the broken glass, and started playing in the standing water.

Your shadow threw a party last night and kept me up until 2 am. In the morning, you took in my slow walk to the shower, my two aspirins, and my dry toast, and asked if I wanted to go for a run.

No, I don’t want to put on my Nikes right now, no, I don’t want to splash in the puddles with you, and yes, I do know what happened to me.

When I’m vibrating at your frequency, the spark that lives behind my belly button jumps between two carbon rods. The electrostatic movement attracts others with similar circuits, but there are so few wired like me. When I do meet a parallel electric force, I can’t help but remove all of my resistors, letting the amperage rise. The resulting voltage causes most to recoil in fear, but occasionally a series connection occurs. The power in that circuit explodes me into you.

Surrender meant vulnerability. I didn’t see that coming. And when it happened, I had no choice but to rip out my heart and lay it at your feet. I’m hoping you won’t run away, slipping on the pool of blood that is blooming around us. I know the mess is scary and full of uncertainties, but if you place your heart on the floor next to mine, the convergence will be strong enough to keep all of our enemies at bay.

I fall out of orbit after 72 hours. Your vibrational force is weakened in the pull of my own insanity. I’m thrown into deep space, drifting without a tether. Only you can draw me back in, clasping your fingers around my soul, pulling me back into my Divine trajectory. But as I stray, your face gets lost in the backdrop of stars, until I at last close my eyes and pray to forget you.

How do I pray over this union? I want to wrap my arms around it and draw it into my chest, shielding it from all of the arrows turned our way. Taking deep breaths, I instead empty myself into it and pray you’ll do the same.

Every time she sees a cactus, her heart cracks back open, bleeding hurt all over her insides. The hurt colors her vision, dulling vibrancy to a lackluster grayscale. It muffles her hearing, deadening melody to a lifeless buzz. It desensitizes her tastebuds, quashing wine to stagnant water. It numbs her skin, anesthetizing the insides of her elbows to empty hollows. But her heart is not dulled, deadened, quashed, or anesthetized. Her heart is a throbbing, fiery ache of pain, longing for the desert.

I don’t know what time your train is arriving. Actually, I don’t know if you’re arriving at all, or even if you’ve boarded a train headed to this station. Yet here I sit in the cavernous arrival hall, counting the ceiling tiles as I wait. Every time the split-flap board clacks with updates, my heart pounds in my chest, thinking maybe this will be the train that brings you back to me. I should probably leave the station, walk out into the night and make my way home. But that first step outside the station’s doors may break me in half. Here at least I can pretend to be like the others waiting for their beloved’s track number to be displayed. It’s that feeling that is holding me together.

Shoot me up with your attention, injecting your gaze directly into my vein. Squeeze your fingers around my upper arm, piercing my skin with the needle when I wince. Hold the syringe in place, waiting until my skin flushes into rouge. Only then can you leave me, your hit having reached my void, numbing my aching loneliness.

Plant me in this rocky soil. Let me spread out my roots in search of liquid sustenance. The molecules in my toes were once a succulent cactus and I’m starved for native habitat. Return me to my desert soul.

Lead me through the forest until we come to the edge of our meadow, bathed in early morning light. Wrap the picnic blanket around my shoulders while we wait for the sun to warm the sky. Now dance before me, lifting your arms into the air, spinning until you collapse. I need to hear the sound of your laughter when you tumble onto the grass. The whole universe is contained in that sound.

She dropped what she was doing and ran to the village as soon as she heard the moody rumble of thunder. She climbed into the hut, catching her breath in the space’s center before falling onto her back and arranging her body in a star. Staring wide eyed at the thatched roof above her, she summoned every turmoil within her and let her chest rise with each arrival. She could feel the storm responding, drawing closer as she brought more and more pain to the surface. When the squall was directly overhead, she closed her eyes and waited until she felt rain on her face. Upon opening her eyes and looking directly into the face of the tempest, she saw not only her pain, but also the world’s collective pain. The oneness of it all was somehow comforting.

Take my hand and we’ll wade into the bog together, pausing among the reeds when the water reaches our ankles. While we wait for the bullfrogs to resume singing, you’ll point out constellations by weaving my fingers into yours and lifting my hand to the sky. The arch on my right foot and the arch on your left foot will keep bumping into each other as the warm mud gives way under our weight. The moment your eyes tell me the concert won’t happen with us in the middle of the orchestra pit, one frog will boldly break into song and suddenly we’ll be drowning in adulation, one with the frogs, one with the mud, and one with the shooting star flying overhead.

something is alive in me tonight
your words cannot restrain my heart
nor bridle my joy
tonight i live in the earth
my cheek pressed against the dirt
my hips melting into the soil

expectancy in heavy in me tonight
your words cannot distract my fervor
nor ambush my delight
tonight I live in the heavens
my elbow resting on the moon
my eyes full of stars

spirit is expanding in me tonight
your words cannot temper my breaking
nor subdue my ecstasy
tonight i live in the infinite
my toes curled over the edge
my being wrapped in the divine

I’d like to gather
You all in a room
Or outdoors around a fire

Your faces aglow
In flickering light
The crickets heard chirping the time

Sitting in silence
Our breathing in sync
We would all slowly close our eyes

Every so often
I’d sneak a quick peek
At your faces, shadowy forms

My heart would explode
With light from my chest
And night would turn into daytime