Environmental engineer, food blogger, freelance writer, oatmeal enthusiast. Website: beverlywrites.com IG: beverlyeats
I am not hung up on younot caught between the color of your eyesand the sound of your voicenot spinning my wheels over every detail of the space you occupy–
Roots shallow
for all the waiting in the worldit’s time to put it on a page as thoughit will make you hear it;I will say itin the language of the prayers we speak aloud just to make ourselves feel heard:
beyond reason — that I should stillhear your name spokenin thundercracks;or your breathon the ocean’s exhale
When I fell like the leaves in Octoberwhat could I expectbut for the winter to changethe color of my soul?
When I fell like a star from the sky,what did I expectbut to burn up in your atmosphere?
can we turn this placeinto our petrified forest?
fossilize these feelingsso that our skeleton heartsmay remain,mosquitoes trapped in amberto remind them we were here?