I cradle his lips in mine,
always wanting more of him,
the pieces he’s not ready to reveal or release,
though I wonder if I’m willing to let go of parts of myself,
hermetically sealed and closed for construction,
knowing that so much of my heart is flammable,
while his is like the cobblestone he sees as our foundation,
the cool bedrock that holds us steady,
and I’m the book of matches ready to ignite
the fire of both day and night,
not to be extinguished, then carelessly tossed to the pavement.
I hold on to this tightrope and walk on tiptoe,
yet, life without him would have no balance or symmetry.
Words would bounce off the sun and burn holes through tangled clouds,
eclipsing my grasp of invisible stars hiding behind them,
knowing that while there are times I can’t see these pinpricks of light,
they are always there, waiting to shine.
© Connie Song 2021. All Rights Reserved.
