if we were speaking, right now
I'd tell you you're charming
that the way words tumble
around your skull, through
your lips, onto my skin
and into my bones
has to be some sort of magic.
I'd narrate the strength in your
arms because the strength in
your convictions also uphold
signs of "this is unjust. we
demand more. we seek to
abolish the world as it met us
outside of our mothers' wombs."
I'd show, then likely tell, you
I'd show, then likely tell, you
I love your cheeks the most.
Broad stretches of canvas to
paint words on like
you are incredible and
you are multitudes and
you are enough.
we're not speaking, right now.
isn't it harmful that I can know
you're alive, for now. watching
me watching you, saying
everything and nothing at all.
we're not speaking, right now,
and I still hear you in the silence.
