Glass, Water, and Velvet
As lovers, we leave parts of ourselves inside each other, no matter the kind of love. We gift parts of ourselves, if we find space inside a lover safe enough to hold them. I look for the rooms inside my lovers made of velvet. So plush I could laugh or cry hysterically and no one would hear a sound. So yielding I can admit aloud my insides are made of nearly all glass and water, go heard and unheard simultaneously, then rest there, my sound waves disappearing into the walls, jewels dripping in sunlight, silently absorbing into the velour.
Glass, water, and velvet.
If we are to love each other, I’ll need you to understand.