Complacent, at best,
though I thought I was full,
and a rip through my artfully, hopeless spun life
changed me forever,
for better.
Sunshine and dreams
and a throat woven gold —
you peeled off
yourself
for a moment of real,
and then there was us,
two pleading palm fronds
in front of each other,
just then, but for always, swaying in breezes,
almost (but not)
touching the tips
of our leaves.
Our suns melted down,
liquid and burned,
but imbued with a hope
of a moon full of you,
anew with my I
(and a crystalline thundering sky).
This nightingale night
is the wake of my breath,
the windchilly swear
of my soul.
Imploring,
exploring,
I’ll never go back.
I am not the same girl,
I am not the same self,
I will flow and continue
to dream in full color
and beaches,
and reach for the heavens
I have here on earth.
I have unswept myself,
I have filled you with dust,
and now I can know
what I did not dare know —
it was me who created
and made me myself,
a new me within
(though with you without), forever my ever,
but better.