Approach

Smooth
the feathered edges of my voice
my fingers trickle and watch
the light syrups around your smile

soon.

Raw
the stilted words I now pronounce
the quake in my stomach grounds
my toes tension-bent at the knuckle

here.

Crumpled
the wrongs that gave my brow furrow
the tiny pieces that un-grow
the pages where I wrote you into being
different than who you are

today.

Waiting
marking boxes every day
building life and loving stay
reaping more than what I’ve sown
but sowing the true

me.

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