When sand dunes form in my skin,
When the silver lining I’ve spent most of my life pursuing finally makes it’s way home into my scalp
and dresses in an argent halo,
When the color of my skin can no longer be distinguished form beauty marks
and laugh lines.
When my body becomes one long novel of a purposed fulfilled.
Do not remember the girl you fell in love with.
Forget her boundless wind tunes
and butterfly whims,
the way she loved like a breeze,
caressing whomever crossed her path
irregardless of whether they deserved it.
Forget the skin, silk, cascade.
View me as I am,
who I have become,
folds and all,
creases and all.
Hold me morning dew.
Magnify each vein pore and wrinkle
spiral down,
flow with it’s curves,
margins and ripples
cradle the barren riverbanks.
I am God’s first fingerprint
revealed after decades of forensics
The wind of a lifetime has brushed away dust
Revealing the hieroglyphics dating me for you.
I was carved for you,
out of mahogany red tree
a totem pole of stories
just for you to read.
Read here,
where wind tunes composed symphonies,
where butterfly whims stretched eagle’s wings.
And here,
where my love graduates from breeze to typhoon
Twisters and natural disasters have threatened my frame
and we have weathered these storms together.
There have been nights when your anger kept you from our home,
days
when pride kept me from you arms.
We have had moments,
when I’d rather claim I don’t need you
than acknowledge the longing I feel without you
and every smooth place on my skin is a regret.
There should be evidence of life there.
Wrinkles and stretch marks,
proof of us.
Scars and sand dunes,
proof of war and peace.
And scorch marks,
proof of just where my glass blown skin comes from.
I’ve always wanted to be loved just the way you love me,
Down to my very hands
and eyebrow frays,
admiration of the things I was made from.
I turn Savannah sand in your hands.
When you bulldozer,
brown eyes target mine,
I am Jericho,
Berlin,
Roman Empire.
So when my knees crumble,
when my bones creak like summer rocking chairs,
and thirsty screen doors.
When the compilation of desert storm has succeeded to blur my vision,
sing to me,
because your voice is the closest thing to a Denver sunrise.
And I promise,
I will write you love poems in the form of dragging heels,
and folded smiles,
when I am just crumbled,
origami version of my former self
With the slow beauty of a consistent sunset,
fall in love with me
again.
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