Today, you kiss me, again. It's been a while. You're tentative. Slow to touch. A wisp, and your brush is gone.
(I had let you go; I had dried on all sides; I had accepted a partially-developed state. You could have stayed away; I would have forgotten your touch - the root that grew me back to life.)
(Would you have returned to my form - drawn, again, by my strokes of contrast?)
...But you're here, again. You're engaging with the grey - the way it knows how to land a kiss that causes our lights to blossom, and our shadows to fade.
(I had let you go; I had dried on all sides; I had accepted a partially-developed state. You could have stayed away; I would have forgotten your touch - the root that grew me back to life.)
(Would you have returned to my form - drawn, again, by my strokes of contrast?)
...But you're here, again. You're engaging with the grey - the way it knows how to land a kiss that causes our lights to blossom, and our shadows to fade.
