#napowrimo21 day 26

[prasannawrites]

love is the way

you trample me with your soft fingers; clay in your palms – i am clay in your hands, they say love is akin to death, but i disagree. it's an undoing, you spill every ounce of you and hope enough splatters on them, and that they spill right back. that's why my hands are quivering penning this poem right now. i ask you to light a candle and point me in the direction of salvation, and you hurdle the sun at me, what else am i to do than wear your words on me like sunscreen? i'm convinced i died the night we first met, my body was meant to ascend but is weighed down the weight of yearning that churns in the pit of my stomach. maybe you encompass everything heaven has to offer. i'm homesick but never with you. you are the sea quelling its tide to grant me safe passage in a rowboat – your shore is hundreds of kilometers from here, but the voyage is pleasant enough that i don’t mind dying en route.

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