by Sara Beining
i want to breathe her hair, give a backwards hug, and not look at each otherâ€™s eyes, not in,
crouching down, small, cuddly,
and hiding from everything for a little while with no expectations and
smelling all that pain.
I would let her smell my pain, too.
We would be like wild creatures, wolves, or feral unicorns,
struggling to identify a fellow wolf or feral unicorn friend we lost long ago.
there might well be sparkles? (On the feral unicorn side.)
We would hide in simple sight inside an embrace,
shaping a secret we could only share at first by
the fierce exchange of radical atoms on a mission to rebuild;
firing rapidly in delight at finding the other half to complete the circuit.
“Now Iâ€™m recharged,” your atoms chirp to mine,
“Now my smile will touch my eyes again,” my atoms chirp to yours
“I love your honest smile,” your atoms chirp to mine,
“I always knew you were in there,” you speak,
And I have to stop,
because I’m still so exhausted from getting it wrong.
But you see me, and it’s