Am I too much
a bellowing unfinished story in your throat
One built big from a lifetime of wide rifts and blindfolds
One that inches to your eyes and wants to gush tears
otherwise
Am I not enough. This tree not yet formed in your belly reminds you of times slip sliding into the edge of a lake that wanted
all of you and took you in belly and body
Am I just enough for you to count the stars in my eyes and pull the roots around your waist and chest
a life jacket you never thought you would need
Not enough to hold the whole pain in you. The loss that blooms like a lotus against folded space
where nothing beautiful ever grew.
I could take it all. All of it. Roots belly throat
make it mine.
Launch myself, rocket fast into other orbits and drop the depth of your sorrow into cavernous unknowns and never look back
The question is…are you ready for this? This open wound bearing down on you asking that you see all of it, the dying beauty always on the edge of its end. Know the cruelty of all of it and see love love love in all things
I come with nothing. These hands with petals and a pen, a bird slowly climbing from my chest, want so much to hold you in, hold things down and carve the moon’s melancholy outside your circle, a talisman, so you can spin a story, grab everything in its path and make the end of us yours.
Enough so I can watch myself lose you and know you as the only one
Who grew like a storm in my gut.
Walk With Me 