Creation is my life and blood.
I flat line when I dam the flow.
The pulse can be shallow or plunging,
Rapid or leave tracks at a snail’s pace.
There is a rush and stillness,
chaos and pieces falling featherlight into place perfectly.
I relish holding it within.
We could undulate halfway to the moon together,
through the 100,000 miles of vessels coursing through my body.
To travel with Life itself is nothing short of rapture.
All roads comes to an end,
but Creation can not be contained.
She will ripple beyond with wonderment.
It hurts to bleed...
to taste the salty sweet, crimson goodbye on my tongue.
Then, I catch my stained lips in the mirror
— Creation’s birthmark.
Her thank you for allowing her to exist,
and a promise she'll return before my heart skips a beat.
She is a mischievous, attentive lover.
a long-term affair.