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You can’t let the weight of forever
suffocate you; breathe in ME
and think of the first time
you caught me on your tongue.
You said it was like catching
the first flakes of a fresh snow.
That made your words feel like a winter holiday
over every pore of my skin and
I wanted to cut paper snowflakes
and hang them in my desert windows
to remind me of that gooseflesh morning
on days you aren’t with me.
My bloodshot eyes are bruised
with the poetry I pretend I never write
for you, about you, about us;
but, it’s neglect that will kill
the butterflies caged by my ribs,
the ones I felt the day I knew I loved you.
Nothing is as soothing and
reassuring as the breathy whispers
slipping through your lips,
like Apollo’s music,
to dance on my skin.
Given to me... parts of you,
the parts you believe you can do without,
along with unspoken promises of
tomorrows you’re afraid might come.
Those few empty boxes I found
and packed away in my closet
are safes now; they guard
all the yesterdays of us together
with space enough for a
galaxy of tomorrows.
When our wrinkles
become longer than our
varicose veins and memories,
and our rocking chairs sing,
I will paint us as feelings deposited
and banked in those boxes
and call it: Love Preserves.