An engtanglement.

Darling, you lie beside me,
your breath
skirting my cheeks
like a warm, summer breeze.

I stir up and think:
You are the love
that I have allowed myself.

The life I thought
I had to hunt down,
was the same one
always searching fo me.

Love is not a thing
to be fought for,
like  many of the men
who came before you
thought.

It is balancing
on the tip of a butterfly
wing.

It is the surrender of
stripping yourself bare
in the open sunshine,
letting the crescendo
of the tide
pull you in.

It is the sweet knowing
I have when I look on you
upon first waking,
that our roots are entangled
like dancing, silver webs

That we are intertwined
endlessly

 

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