I am not still
when you begin
I am already leaning
toward the place
you haven’t touched yet
breath catching
on the edge of you
before it even arrives
you say melting
as if I don’t feel
the slow surrender
of skin learning
how to listen
there is a thirst
but it isn’t empty
it is knowing.
the kind that waits
until it is taken
slowly
completely
you move
and I follow
not behind
but within
every trace
you leave
I gather
every drop
you offer
I answer
until we forget
which one of us
was meant to hold
and which one
was meant to fall
and somewhere
in the quiet after
we don’t ask
what we became
only how long
we can stay there
before the world
remembers us










