Honest mornings

In these spaces, he is happy
In this arc, I am waiting.
Close the door, traitor.
I am looking for a map,
or maybe a pastime
I remember your shoulders.
Your navel speaks to me,
impossibly curved, beautifully written
Look, the weight of this water
What’s wrong with them? 
Maybe it will ignite,
maybe it will break upon ice
Million years or was it an echo?
I didn’t know distance infinitesimally small,
incredibly poignant.
I wanted to see you,
if not
let the leaves fall
for the light to pass through.

#poetry #forJ

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