Moonlight cascading off your skin, ricochets
Around these walls, off the glass and steel of this city
My fingers compose music down your ribcage,
We are seven floors up but I want to go higher—
I want to climb inside your mind
Experiencing this new-new novel
whose tone and words and plot line I’ve never read before.
You intrigue me. The discovery of someone else’s mind is like that.
It’s funny how I know before I know, that yours is a mind I like
I want to fall into its depths
Take residency in its nuances
Sure, your face, that body; they’re my aesthetic
But your mind, that mind.
I could deep dive
I could languidly reside there for days.
It is sacred to me
Our beginnings, our endings
Our nights with no in-between
Infinite nights upon
When they meld and marble into one
this beautiful, inimitable pattern
I see it all
as the pixels of your voice diffuse around me
it is grand and it is new and it is heady
and it is wondrous and it is nascent and it is unwritten
we are moments
we are years
we are decades
the mundane, and the unseen
and the delicious, improbable, unlikely
that makes perfect sense.
what is sacred?
it’s been playing on my mind lately.
It changes over time
what do you guard?
what do you protect?
What do you set an impenetrable boundary around? for your own good
I’m acutely aware that exposure oxidises.
But sometimes, there is something so freeing about letting the light in and
the teal copper goes when it has weathered the elements is, to me, more beautiful than
when it’s new
But this, our beginning
I think the beginning is sacred.
it is vulnerable in its newness
in its nascent growth
one-on-one is sacred
The space between us, the time between us, the conversations between us.
Are sacred to me.
~ Jennifer McGeever