Photo Credit: Patience
Night air ripples
against my skin,
sweet lilac in the air.
Spring rises
on timid feet
and whispers warmth
into my bones,
igniting the skeleton
of memory
hiding inside.
My limbs stretch
in living,
in wanting
of homes I’ve never seen,
of arms I’ve never felt,
of feelings I’ve never dreamed.
To be new,
like spring,
but in a time already lived.
Those specks,
those motes of moments
where we grew
and bloomed
in each other’s breath,
where we died
every second we lived
and rejoiced in such uncertainties.
To be there,
all those years gone,
to be young
and in your heart,
to be spring
with the only one
who ever mattered.
~Patience~
