i feel stretched this morning (three yet? oh but how, the sun is barely squinting, the sky still grey and dewy despite the warmsoft heat) feel like i've been pulled somehow, like my spine is longer than should fit in my body and i am trailing long tendrils behind me, tired because of strange dreamings last night and wanting to stay in bed forever, pillowed on his skin because he knows me, feeling the scratch of unwashed sheets and wanting this air to congeal around me and hold me tight like fingers.

i was reading old poetry last night, falling back down the trails of years and emotions i can't recall having, wondering where those words came from and the passion behind them the fear and pain and the recoiling. i am happy here more than i think i realize, standing alone and holding hands, and i find it hard to remember how it felt to be terrified and angry the way that those poems know i was.

it makes me wonder how i could be so lucky, how i could have stumbled upon this love, this light, and somehow kept it wrapped around me us and not torn it apart from sheer confusion doubt (of myself, knowing that i might not be so much as is thought i am but this time i think my reality is enough) fear of falling, for there have been too many pedestals and too much air to shatter against, too many walls in their eyes except for now now i am on solid ground can stretch my legs and not stumble from some unseen edge and that is equal to flying, i think.

the whole is more than the sum of our parts, converging and coalescing into some greater good some straining soaring thing. each morning that i wake to the color of his eyes i am humbled.