I have been delivered back to my steps without you, where normalcy no longer brings relief.
I forged from steel that layered the ground and twisted up to bedposts.
Foundations rock like seas with kidney stones and pin sized clots. Tiny wounds that end life. It does not take much to turn sunshine to deep dark.
A gesture originally intended with grace, but you wear it like a bad tie. You steal and choke; I am breathless at your feet – and not in a good way.
I learn to live beyond my somber moments and find freedom in inspiration – enlightenment in feeling the sound of thunder.
Sheltered in wait to shake you once again — down to your knees. Vibrating your bones with the thunderous beats of my chest. Breaking down patterns of resistance in one attack of my ocean walls.
There is a second when the patterns make a different sense, when you pull back and realize that something has changed. You look into eyes differently and the words never read quite the same.