we took it – deeper 

then we’ve gone – for a while

i dipped into pockets

created nearly 16 months ago

mustering the bravery required to

cup vulnerability in palms

-- shallow breathing. rapid.

shifting-searching-- contact.

extending, i hand you fistfuls of – me,

the way we experienced pain,

opened tangled fingers of interpretations

i cried everything of

distanced, protected, defeated elements of – me

in you.

as night turn to day in the

memories of our devotion

i told you –passionate love making can be tiring

what i miss the most of our intimacy, our love making

is the feeling just after

the feeling of deep soulful peace, comfort, familiarity,

the feeling i would get as i lay my head on your chest

as i would breath in

                             home.

at this the seas, the seas seemed to--

the seas gathered and fell in assembly

from the cliffs (of cheekbones)

lingering and pooling at lips and dips

saturating shores with the salted holy water of our eyes

humble offerings of our tired redemption

‘nothing is forgotten—‘