here’s the truth
I have never wanted to be permanent before you
my first love held me only by the fingertips, my eyes
cast outward seeking sunlight. distant,
he called me.
but you are so close.
your breath lulls
my hummingbird heart
I settle into solid amber – calm, dark
the hands are mine – small and pale,
hungry. it is as if a seed has dropped into my
palms, stretching inward
seeking nutrients from a body I have never
understood. it is as if someone
has planted the last tree here,
and it’s urgent and important and
sometimes my anxiety peels back the
bark protecting my chest until
I can’t breathe
teetering against roots without
an anchor, always a jump away
from felling the forest —
he smiles at me
and I can feel the leaves press against my skin
from the inside, I open my mouth
and taste fresh air;
hand over hand, I climb out of myself.
I find the sun.