Thursday, January 15, 2015

Bird Dog

you are you. And I am me.
And I am not you. And you are not me.
But there are ways in which you and i. me and you, become something new
An entity birthed from
our hopes and griefs and bodies and
blood and orgasms and
moments of looking in to each others eyes' and the 9" between our faces when we
stand in front of each other and the
birthmarks we wear
and the gaps in your teeth ans the moments of
painful silence and the mornings where
I can not believe how good it feels to
lay next to you and your pet names for
me and the voices, songs, and meals
which take new meaning when shared
with you. An egg has never felt less like
an egg than every time we sit down to breakfast.
You, are you. And I, am me.
And I am not you.
And you are not me.
But life takes up purpose as those singular
definitions fade and gray. As
the rhythm of a new heartbeat rises
through the chorus. Melodic and sweet,
it harmonizes.

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