you—an almost ache, almost wound, almost lover,
almost return to self, almost summer, almost a...

like a gentle breeze warmed by the sun,
you pour over me in a steady stream, constantly...

consider the litany of beauty—
tonight, there is you, nestled in the fists of...

Happenstance—the way you turn the corner at full...
bumping into me, spilling an armful of books that...

“…and the wound was a place of shelter for...
You sincerely ask. You speak the grief I’ve been...