This (For When I Forget)
I know water flows to the lowest places.
Is that how you find my hidden-most parts?
You who bend light, and speak oceans.
Who once gathered dust with gilded hands,
Fashioned form in your likeness,
And gave me your breath.
I’ve never breathed alone.
Why then am I quick to find my fears, and not your eyes?
Why do I scavenge,
When I’ve a place at the table?
And why do I assume you’ve short arms,
When your embrace holds the world?
And then, there’s this.
Undoing a thousand
Before I’ve even entered them.
Only you can unearth life
From the parts of me
That try to live, unloved.
May I hasten to adore you,
But linger long to feel your gaze.
And always, let me be your home,
As you are mine.