I tilt my head until I see you upside down.
I thought that,
Maybe if I changed my view, I could understand
Which of the fleeting feelings tethered to my ten fingertips belonged
But I didn't.
Yet, in the morning with eyelids heavy as steel and faces smooshed into holey sheets,
I could’ve sworn I left my body just long enough to see
A clockmaker’s dream: a kaleidoscope of gears and wheels and warm machinery;
Our hearts pumping the same circuits.
Our hearts pumping the same love.
I don't write as often as I should. But, when I do, I feel free. I'm able to portray in words the swirl of thoughts and emotions that sit inside of me and release them into the outside world.