if sometimes, in a dream, an occasional kiss didn’t find me
like a generous gift wrapped in soft slithers of silk
stars, glitter, hot pink
i don’t think i’ll make it
even one day at a time
even moment by moment
is sunlight breaking on my skin
like warm oil
like apple pie pudding on a cold afternoon
wrapped in my gabi with the hands that wove it
little tired cotton balls
soft with overuse.
it is like a scent that insists to stay
when you’ve washed it off to coarseness
still it stays.
he holds me
like a porcelain that would crack with too much handling
a little bit harder than you would touch a butterfly
a little bit softer than you would set a broken bone
i want to call your name for the first time
say it like a magic spell
like even you are hearing it for the first time
so your eyes could stop darting like an arrow
rushing to its wound.
a deep exhale breathes into me
there’s an unsettling that comes
with being truly seen
my body wants to grow flowers
water its thirsty soil
mend it’s burnt patches
grow roots and rise.
this kiss could be my home
a budding belonging that’ll make me want to stay
my tent by a bonfire
my shabby hut on a mountain top
my little house by the raging waves
where my feet make prints that stay till tomorrow
until i choose to leave again.
©Tsion B., 2017