Moving Back into

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Notes from April in April 2017:

Black. Blank pages for your birthday.

Instead of mountains. Instead of forest green. Ocean blue. Desert.

Where brown girl burns golden

We moved to the sounds and our bodies ached with a knowing.

Are you safe inside your body?

 

All i knew then: we stop feeling somehow.

I remember once: The slightest touch

We held hands to comb through crowds

When it pours out. Water down a body, the back arches. Bends.

I feel better when you touch me–I feel alive when i’m next to you.

 

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