i hope you grow wild. i hope you are untamable. i hope they’re scared of you in the way they’re scared of the dark open night. god, if anything, let them be scared of you, let their hands quake before touching you, let them tremble to behold you. do not allow irreverence. if no one else will pray at your alter, please, my love, worship yourself.
Now I see your face and it’s all okay again like I can breath clean water
Did you know that your hands are still a song even after they have left the guitar?
I watch the notes that they leave behind on the pages of books, your sheets, my skin
And smile as the song grows and dances beyond control through second-hand touches
I like it when I stare too long, even more when you do
Or when the light touches the tiny hairs on your face like they’re beacons into another world
If you watch you’ll see it too,
You know that when people are at a loss for words you can taste their feeling sweeter than anything that enters your ears.