UNTITLED

You're the silence in the center of night,

the morning sun and the first bug bite.

The ever-terrifying flight;

the even more disturbing fight.

You're everything that ever might

have been if we had all been knights.

A child's first sight,

and growing height.

And somehow all is right.

You're the map to places I can't be,

and the door to which I don't have a key.

The bruise spreading across my knee;

the money spent on shopping sprees.

The birthday when I became three,

the jail cell where I became free,

and through it all we will be we,

and she will be she.

You're the voice that always has a tone,

the silence and the second groan,

the midnight hours spent alone,

the kiss that I have always known,

the silence right before the moan,

the whirring sound of a thousands drones,

and the blanket I've sown.

In the end, you're mine. I'm yours.

Open all the metal doors.

Take me in and fill the drawers.

Close the cannons; end the wars.

And crawl on all fours.