I don't mean to step into that space,
that place where stars shine through your eyes
and I feel like a shadow.
You are just that bright,
ethereal,
somewhere between me and God.
See, you build bridges
where I didn't know I had gaps
and you hold my hand
before fear asks for comfort,
b/c that's you.
I listen,
your words make music
in my ears
and sing me to sleep
in your absence
and we dance,
rhythmically
receiving the best
of each other
time and time again.
You are more than comfortable,
better than my favorite gyms shoes
from high school,
b/c you easing into my grooves
and smooth them out
like wrinkles in sheets,
your hands spread
my canvas
and feel the beauty
of my emptiness,
the ridges of my dried colors
and wait for me to paint myself anew.
I tripped,
tumbled over memories,
sat on the floor with what used to be,
and smelled yesterday,
but my present
isn't packed in a Haitian chest
at the foot of my bed.
It sleeps between creaking floors
that you've never heard,
screams in streets you don't know,
and works new dreams I never shared
with you.
No, I didn't mean to step into that space.
I'll stay right here.
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