I love
how I can let my voice weaken
around you; I know that each wilted syllable
will be taken care of. Gently
you hold them, like newborns in your ears,
and I love you for living out such a metaphor.
around my voice box down,
and my larynx is defenseless for your passion.
It is a good vulnerability stuffed full of godsend
healings, straight from your mouth, your doting jaw. (that I love)
and I love,
how you deposit unlearned talents into the muscles
of my hands: I am suddenly intimate friends
with the black keys, and I never was before.
I am abruptly a girl of longer nails, hitting buttons only once,
a heaven creature again, who can undo clothes with her lips
and hold hands with royalty in a movie theater.
Compassion has flown into my wings again,
more than ever before,
and I love
that you are my home.
