• Nne


I find my balance at the back of Your neck

more specifically, at the clasp that prevents Your gold chain from slipping

without You, My tree pose would waver and we’d all yell timber

I find my footing at the breadth of Your shoulders

the same ones that bear the weight of all the crosses You’ve been compelled to carry

You let me rest there sometimes too

You meet mobility at the tips of My fingers

all the better for You to connect with

at Your worst You find Yourself stuck

out of touch

out of reach

I bring You back and propel You forward all the same

seek sanctity in the movements of My lips

only ever honest with You

converse wholly

I’d never leave out the truth

so You christen me holy

virtue, sincere, Yours

believe beauty is in the way You navigate Your course

I call You shapeshifter, mold maker, master of maneuvering

the peak of My peace lies at the junction of what if and what is

My fantasy God realized you perfect for me

and I for You

as if We were crafted for the soul purpose of complementing the other

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