you don’t have to be so gentle with me. im not broken. my edges are sharp. I don’t have a fear of close- although that may be healthy. its only that I mean to love.
but until your mouth to my naval- I had no intention of succumbing to gifts to my center. and still you pulled weeds in my garden. tilled I that was the earth. relaxed me like waves at the shore and prayed safe into the salt I had come to call veins.
its been a lifetime of considering ones motives. yet- here in your arms I believe you.
the last time someone whispered ‘are you ok’ in my ear was before leaving me in a heap on the bathroom floor- heaving. a little torn inside from the violence while still it felt like home.
then you walk in and give new meaning to kiss.
and so I believe your touch every time the tips of your fingers sign well into the strong of my back
im hoping your nurture is my thank you for all the years I held on by my finger nails.
_____________________
april 2009
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