Something in me rises to your height and is knocked back by your words,
Falling fast into throes of laughter, about myself.
You found that place.
That ticklish spot
That everyone fears will be a home to tears.
You have figured out my plan
To see you reflect glorious in me.
You are not responsible for my decisions.
You are free.
To be loved and nurtured by your own unique part of me,
Immersed in the flow of things known and unseen.
Attention takes many forms.
Like the shadow of the rock we were sure was a frog.
We look on it in mystery. Never knowing whether it will hop away, or sit waiting to be unfound.
Like my body.
Awaiting your hands.
Awaiting your language.
I know who you are.
You don't need to hide or fear
Your words, at least, will not hurt me yet.
They carry the scent of truth,
Like those beautiful hands of yours,
Just waiting to weave into my hair for the very first time.
