In two days, everything
becomes a thicker color.
The brush moves slower
to spread every detail
through all the cracks and crevices.
I met you in the chasm,
with those eyes that know more
about others than about themselves.
Six months of ignorance
and growing knowledge left us
to shiver side by side
at the way history
refused to remain a memory.
We bore the freeing chains
of the repentance stone.
Again and again.
I met you and
a whorl of language
that was too large for my tongue
formed in my stomach.
There are no ways to distill
what still swirls with wonder inside me
so I
put off the old I knew
and put on the canvas
to bear us, thick as we are
into valleys of beauty.
Cracks, crevices, and all.
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