February 10, 2014 § Leave a comment

You are not merely “love” or
“Dear” or “darling”
All encompassed in that grave word falls to you like armour
Sheathes your poignant flesh
Lines your sweet brow, creases like crown
Beloved is weight, need, responsibility
Beyond frivolity
It is rootly; deep and vital, delving into secret earthen caves
It is lofty; spreading great leaves to touch pureblue
To say it, I am cloaked in the night,
Drowning in 4am servitude and shrieking memories of otherness
You are air, beloved, slipping into the cracks and filling me up
And leaving me weightless.

Nicole Best


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