[this child
knew what it meant]
to feel.

--

quiet, slow--
the thick molasses of your intention coats the back of my throat such that i cannot breathe nor speak nor dream. not now. not here.

everything is so bold, so concrete...so real. you mean precisely what i perceive, it's clear enough. i can see it--feel it--the glow and warmth of your face in sincerity. the hesitation of a hand outstretched. the care between your lips as they utter each syllable, cautiously crafting every sentence within context, around metaphors of the past, or this night, or those stars..

walk with me--we'll speak of nothing and everything, dance as children, sing as fools, and laugh at ourselves until we fall, lying in the grass to stare at the sky. one walk, one night, living and breathing for this moment.