I want to write something, because I saw you. I want to write something, because you saw me
There won’t be, I can’t find, we haven’t made words so lovely as you, but maybe, maybe, words can be enough to describe for the movement of my insides, as you shake them and shift them with your gaze
Your scarcelessness fills every space, swallowing up the shadows of doubt and scarcity with springs that become fountains that become rivers that carry us to the sea
The steps of your walk and run and dance are at a tempo just behind or ahead, and, though I can’t, I won’t, match them, they remind me that a already know my steps, they prompt me to move in new and old ways, and I do.
The only response I know to an abundance like yours is to hand over all of the love I can access
