what this is


this happiness is wet; it tastes
like wine, like a kiss
pressed into a prayer, two bodies
like a church, home
and hope in every corner,
in every curve, all the moments
in an hour, singing.

this happiness is slick, it is
rain greeting a rooftop, the way
a look begs for understanding,
and how understanding sleeps
within every brave moment,
full with purpose, quietly
asking to be known.

this happiness is quiet, secret,
a leaf just beginning to turn,
humble as a thunderbolt,
it separates what it must, a touch
that stays long after a hand is gone,
fears bursting into flame.

this happiness is a rebellion,
and there, in a stolen beam of sun,
it began; it is always beginning;
it is always what it is,
perfect with its imperfections,
freckled with desire, fingers
on a trigger, heart like a flood.

this happiness is two hands
and an afternoon, forgetting the door
in favor of an open window,
it is untying knots while shaking,
going through, rather than around,
and running into deep waters;
this is love let out of its birdcage,
your ribcage, flying wild –
flying. Yes, that.

this happiness is wet
as a kiss – a surprise, an inspired gasp
beneath a lover’s hand.
this is why we came.
this is why we come.
this is, itself, a reason.

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