Arms become more than the act of enfolding. It’s too much to keep or ask for, the lean and bulk of him, all limbs and broad chest wrapped around the length of a woman, so contained can’t even explain it. Nor can held or close or kept; one cancels another. The compulsion to love continues to be a shock, as if the heart is an everlong muscle that can’t be beaten. Enfolded, tempered with metamorphisis;
to shed the skin and transform. Hibernating produces a form lovelier than what the figure started with or was. Process more timely than the creature become — layers dissolve to produce the jeweled wing as tools for flight ease from protective armor.
The 6’5″ wingspan of him is significantly beautiful.
Pink-tipped sky and winter breathe squarely toward spring, a study in unraveling: from earthly to airborne. A buckeye, a hawk, a flicker in time. The departure stuns as horizon becomes the habitat, and every branch and leaf and crack in sky and dirt and wood is loved.
last bit exceptionally wonderful, friend. hope you’re having fun… xo.
Thanks, always, for reading, dear.