WHAT THE HAND, DARE SEIZE THE FIRE
What you think of as home is a hazard to myself. I know that. It’s not that I’ve surrendered my fear to it.
It’s just that the darkness rolls in on mornings like this. It’s just that the world seems fractured on nights like this.
With nothing but the tyger bright growling at the edge. Primal and ferocious.
And you lying next to me with your mouth cold and open. The scent of your perfume ribboning my hands as I turn to sleep.
Not leaving or staying.
Not seen or unseen.
But in a perfect sense of being,
When everything else is