We crawled inside love,
as if (it wasn’t) a shelter.
I wrote this while holding you in bed, the air conditioner running too cold and your body running hot beneath the comforter. I wanted my arms to wrap around you and hold you from all harm. To protect you and make you feel safe. You sighed heavy and shifted closer to me. And for a moment we were safe. It was not illusion. Instinct more likely. Something inherent. Hereditary. Prehuman. To make us blind to the fact we are never safe. Even in each others arms. Our bodies are our sustenance yet they work against us. Others bodies: interactions and entanglements out of ours, anyone’s control. The earth, sustaining us yet trembling beneath us. And space, cold space, burning hot space: order and chaos into infinity.
So I held you, and felt your warm breath against me, and let my head spin free in thought. With you. Just then. Forever in a moment. Like a flame forgetting it is a flame, a sun forgetting it too is a thing with a lifetime.