My voice was harsh because I convinced myself that you were hiding!
Somewhere tucked in a box of rosewood, peeled at the corner and latched with brass.

I carry- I work to carry like a great mule of the Earth,
Atlas, the mule, myself...
Everything of you should belong to me,
but SHOULD is so foolish,
always so foolish... I SHOULD be a consequence of your spit,
some tiny droplet of mist that floats freely from your lip as you talk,
BUT I am your light, instead.

I want to unwrap your chest, tenderly,
swim in it. I love
your nose.