I have loved you
with things more than love,
beyond the vibrant layers
of devotion
to the rotting
folds of
insecurity and failures;
I have given you
even non-gifts,
because I cannot help
but to offer you everything.
Faith, Health, and Other Musings
May our minds flourish with creation, and may our hands never deny its expression.
I have loved you
with things more than love,
beyond the vibrant layers
of devotion
to the rotting
folds of
insecurity and failures;
I have given you
even non-gifts,
because I cannot help
but to offer you everything.

You are poetry,
every lyric
more inscrutable,
yet more beautiful,
drawing me deeper
into a reverie
filled
with flowers
and lace.
Written words
are lovers,
climbing into your heart
and changing
who you’ve
been.



I cherish
your
grey hair
and
all of your
signs of living,
because they
reveal
moments, days, years,
that you
have grown
into your own
essence,
all the time
becoming
the most
radiant
thing
I’ve ever
known.
Your fingers
are flowing heat,
and I smile
as I wince,
when
the flames
rise
to lick
the back
of my neck
You are
the only one
to love me
hard enough
to stir the dust
from my heart,
to shake
the shadows
from its corners.