the pull I may feel
for the rest of my life
the way my body feels alive
in new air, touching and
tasting and laughing new things
experiences collected like
annotated Polaroids on the wall,
honey lavender coffee on my
tongue, a giant bed to
sleep in, crisp air and too-thin
jacket waking me up with a
breath.
but also–you.
you, waking up in the apartment
snuggling Phoenix in the
bed, making dinner, watching
Breaking Bad, familiar
smells, the soft of
blanket, the way your
skin feels on mine, intoxicating and
home.
when I look at the skyline
I am thinking of
mountains
and also of you.
a pull and push that perhaps
keeps me balanced
a homing beacon and a
star-flung reaching
in and out of my body
at the same time
a dreamer with a heartbeat
that doesn’t
quite
belong only
to just her.