owns the bodies of those who
go about the task of
carving a shelter on the
altar of desire and naked
affection. The kind that
grows like the night sky
claiming a territory
already weak at its knees.
Neither of us knew what lay
grunting in its keep. No promise
of earlier days could protect from
the falling away of
hands that swore to hold
everything, especially themselves.
We are only as brave
as the songs we play in loops,
as the stories we tell ourselves when
yearning for a different truth.
Everything is worthy of saving,
if we trust enough to try. We don’t
have to wait for a sign anymore.
Let’s save ourselves for now.