Who I witnessed a deer with. And the night was
cold and comforting, and I wanted to
yell at you and be you and say that in that moment I felt like
water. I felt like water rushing over a rock bed, like I was
filling in each open crevice, crack, complete.

You, who showed me a new color. I didn't
know there were more colors to learn. It smelled like
sweat, like effort, but once I finally saw the shade
the sensation was overwhelming, like warm butter melting
onto my organs, rust brushed from an ancient lock.

You, who I apologize to. And you tell me not to say sorry, to not
whip myself into a frenzy but I am always sorry, because I feel'
as though you are a wispy light dancing around my head and
if I move in the wrong direction I'll block
one of your vibrant rays that sends me to the sun.

You, who said you wanted to want me so badly that I would
explode into a million pieces. You hold your love at times like
an egg in a spoon, thinking about the pace of your feet. But I want you to fucking
RUN and drop the egg on the floor and pick it up again, and I promise
I'll keep the ground beneath you pillowy and soft.

You, like a tree. And I'm a tree too, and next to each other we will
strengthen our roots and branches and care for our creatures and
hear the exquisite rustle of our leaves and grow, grow, grow,
grow until our branches knot together. And there we will stand, tied to the Earth, grasping at
clouds, eating the sky. And still, even then, I will have so much more love to give to you.