eng 259.

i just wrote possibly one of the most amazing things to ever have shimmied and sparked from my finger tips 

and it disappeared, just like that.

i feel so alive

call it a celebration of the "custom of innocence"

or naievete.

i could really care either way.

i can write all day and all night-

from the moment the gray skin of the sky is peeled back to reveal that inky depth,

i can write.

i just want to love you.

it aches to imagine such a love.

and i don't know who you are (what kind of a question is that? "who are you?")

i can feel you within the velvet lines of the sweater

the rough cotton of sheets

the heated wall that is your chest

the pointed tips of holly-leaves

the icy pelts of rain on a nameless path in loudonville.

i can see you within the scratchy swipes of a pencil

and the smudged numbers that i've never really cared for.

i'm growing far more than i ever thought was possible

i've uprooted

and replanted.

i'm a beam in the barn that no one ever explores

save the lone owl

or the shivering.

but i am not alone.

you, and he, and she are my fellow beams

and together

we erect the barn

that no one ever explores

save the lone owl

or the observant.

i am Michelle.

i have never named myself,

but i am.

and you are

and we are both here together.

and come now somber one,

isn't that miraculous?

smile for me now

and lay down that cross.

i'm going to press these words into that naked sky,

just like that God did so many eons ago with the stars.

didn't you know that's what they are, the stars i mean?

they're letters of that language that we forget so many years ago,

but i'm adding my own taste to the horizon this day

and you, will be etched there for eternity,

simply because you are you,

and i am me.

we are alive.