so the thing with my love is that it shines
so bright within the cocoon we’ve jointly knitted.
in there, playfulness disarms, feedback molds,
habit soothes. it’s familiar and safe.
in there, gender roles disintegrate and
personalities intertwine. it’s exclusive and mutual.
it’s a sacred space.
and then, when it comes to roaming
the streets of the world individually,
and getting our fingernails dirty from work,
and being triggered by our respective topics
and perhaps being smitten with those folks
who are more like us and our respective heritage,
pulling that invisible skin around us at night
gets harder and harder.
distance seeps in and settles and announces cheekily
to be intending to stay.
it happens every time.
so togetherness is either the quest of
learning to stretch the skin of kinship or
inviting the world in. or
both at the same time, who knows.
what remains is the desire to be enough and belong
and grow freely into whom we were supposed to become
before this all started. love
means wanting it all and
having it, love, want all of us in return.
it’s like that bush that’s always burning
but that’s never consumed by the fire, only glowing
with sacrifice and