her soul’s fabric is weaving itself with mine
frayed ends unravel
the strength is at its taught, solid center;
i love the metallic thread.
once, i dropped my past life
in holy water
once, i hoped it would absorb the years of loneliness.
once, she hid her love away in a drawer like a paperclip
that no longer held torn paper
once, she wrote poetic words
she fled to the margins,
her emotions had no choice.
she touches me now like liquid water drops
filling oak wood barrel empty,
thirsty for the breath of moisture.
her voice is in my vocal chords like polished silver,
i hear the future.
once, i borrowed a pencil and she a cupcake wrapper
so that we could write our first poem; it was like a
sent us into a cleansing sleep.
we breathe the stream of poetic feelings, dancing to the
rhythm of our souls; goes far deeper than words;
whispers the metallic thread.
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