i walk with you, as i've clutched myself with others,
and instead of judging men i've designated numbers,
their worth measured in increments of syllables
and the life that blooms inside of you is slowly becoming visible;
it's infectious,
and i feel my feet touch down,
if i only i could name my stars when you were not around,
maybe i could write you something comprehended
(and full of life) not false cancer sugars, deemed politician, babe and "splendid"
the river flows in you but i feel water on my feet
and my heart beats to yours as a drum pounds for a sheep,
urging them to live long enough to provide them with purple yarn
and regardless of your reassurance
i hope i keep you warm