Lillefey

I breathe words into your lungs
trapping syllables inside your ribs until they echo
inside
shadow words taking form;
hope flight resting in the spaces
until we speak with the same tongue
tripping whole and unwhole,
until we breathe together (as one).
Your rhythm is mine
and I'm torn asunder in the gentle warmth of you.
Your body is a ship in the ocean
held underneath salt crystals that clasp you
as tight as an oyster
and I open your dress and let it fall
to the sand
and my hands trace those tender curves in the wan light
of morning, in a sea we created last night.
You see yourself as a wreck you seek to plunder
but I see only the skeleton of survivors that haunt the shore
beautiful ghosts that tresspass over my lips
with soft kisses in the early hours
and love letters I have left unwritten in my mind.
They wait for my pen, or courage enough to try to paint you with words,
and hang weightlessly above us.
while I press my hands through your ribs
sifting for gold dust
and the murmurs of your heart.

I listen stealthily;
sly steathoscopes waiting for heart murmurs in the dark
echoing the Morse code equivalent of my name in your chest.
I stay myself with the ghosts of a word.
Restless hands are staid from panning for gold in your form.
Cradling a gold pan holding your heart,
mixed with mud, and sand, and dust, and words of love
that I trace over the nape of your neck in whispers.
It's almost Winter, love. And I don't know what I'm searching for.
I only know that I've found you now.
You're beautiful and strange,
and there are relics fossilized in your ribcage
waiting to wake.
We are ressurected, just as we
forsake ourselves in so many everyday ways.
But in you I find myself.
in you I find lillefeys of truth
and the remains of lifelines that lead me back to you.