- Vol. 08
- Chapter 08
but a swift exhale of fridge-cool breath
ruffling my shoulder.
I sense your lean in,
the silent stroke of wrist, sleeve, hand
until I drift,
but mind still wide-eyed anxious. But then
your low hum
begins to mute
this world, lets me fill that shouty space
Kind words of
platinum and turquoise whisper, curve, dangle
from my ear.
My woven brows
hold spoken slivers of gold, pink agate, silver.
Now, I can create.