oh.

As time will flush the color from your cheeks and the glare from your eyes, so will I begin to notice the ripe bellies of flowers and subsequent luscious delights of small woodland creatures. In stillness I am full health and eager arms, ready kissing lips waiting impatiently for your return. In the wee hours of the night all is more than right, it is delightfully wrong and composed in sing-song. Come now pulsing writhing sweating calling out- come now beneath wet covers and between forbidden walls. The ground is freer and clearer than the sky star-ridden before dawn. When I was young I would sneak outside and lie on the ground, earphones pressed tightly to my ears, eyes riveted in wonderment at the riddled spotted canvas above me, wishing waiting for that singular moment of utter clarity, total insanity- smallness. I am young and beautiful and alive and in love. Let it.