Amaranthine

Amaranthine

Half asleep, your lips dance from the palm of my hand to the tips of my fingers, then tucked under your cheek. You breathe deeply, soaking contentment into the pillow with three words on the outbreath and air I can feel.

I will stay here, sixty minutes spent in stillness but tuned in to every twitch.

I could stay here, write an essay from the ink on your skin.

Can I stay here, somewhere I can keep this?

Solitude

Solitude

Quiet, dear mind,

when thinking breaks you apart

cascade your confessions onto this page

till you come away empty.

Feel, dear heart,

numbing the strain does not soften the break

fear not the flood of sensations

for with your rhythmic beat they will dissipate.

Presence, dear body,

one day you will feel at one with yourself

and your reach will be infinite;

here you can tend to your trauma.

Freedom, dear soul,

rest with expectation for the next adventure

and leave behind everything

that resists your balletic wandering.