Becoming You

An equal weight is felt between our waists— a lightness to the touch, feathers without gravity, sails without wind. A delicacy of movement, soars above the dawn, forward as an archer’s arrow. Your eyes are soft, your lips honest to the touch. I sit with you quietly, sipping lukewarm water in sun-basking weather. Your love breaks bones but keeps squeezing me gently. My mirror speaks an obvious truth: that of a thousand-mile reflection, coming nearly as close as a flame ignited once— fueled with a purity of a lost and almost gone oil.