Wanting to Find You


I want to be the words on the page
suspended in time,
but I do not want to be the yellowing book.

I want to wake up next to you without the weight
of the blanket, clothes, or morning.
I do not want to sleep through rays of sun filtering blinds.

If nature can shed its skin,
I want to enter it there and bloom from its skeleton.

I want to be the butterfly’s antenna so I can feel you there
I do not want to be the eyes.
I want to be the sweet wings,
because I want to propel your motion.

I do not want to outlive the stone
because when we leave our bodies,
we rise in a pale vapor
and intertwine ethereal limbs.

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