Reflections

My nakedness reflects in the window of your apartment, a new version, a different picture, diverse with light; framed by books. I am wearing nothing, yet am wrapped with music. In the color of morning, I sensed that something was different, although I cannot know for sure, for I do not yet know how to read the language of your eyes.

There is a tangible passing of time with my perception of your body, as each time I peer upon your face, you are vision so brand new, and You, looking at me, each time feels just a little bit more unlike the last; still not knowing what it is that you see. I am intrigued, by the sequence of the words articulated, silently, just before sleep comes to you, with me – near in quiet cahoots; saying so many things I do not speak.

Such as I have dug deep and have found something rare, something beautiful…and rich with the language of story; or that I hold your laugh in my hands, and smile; touching it, when you are completely unaware that I am smiling. The notes you feed me for breakfast, I have found my mouth watering for…wanting more…as I devour them ravenously, for they are scrumptious.

Mostly, I do not say that I want to go forth to the edge without such fear of falling.