I want to live in the space where you
draw your oxygen in and reach for me,
that uncertain fraction of a second
where your lungs ache and the
quickening race that is your heart floods each
vein beneath your skin like

The grazing of ancient plates under the earth before all we know begins to shake.

It's the many places we cannot see
beyond or into that drive us the most
and those are the places in you where
I want to make a home,
the places concealed like lovely mysterious
artifacts your body and heart encase.

They can be unearthed and delicately touched
but never named because
there are no true titles,
no words for what moves us the most,
for what draws us close with a
precise unknowable gravity.

I want to live in the space where the bedroom's
dim light splashes along the curve of your hip
when you curl closer,
that blink of time when your hair spills around
your shoulder like a soft and fluttering dark curtain.

I want to be the second where faint
static sparks from the friction of
hair and skin that's merely a tease
of the electricity thrumming inside.

It's the many elements and energies we cannot
see beyond or know the true shapes of that drives
me the most and becomes the home we make when joined together,
encased in blankets and delicate touches

That unravel and bind us but are never named
because there are no incantations needed,
no words that move me the way you can when

I live in the spaces inside you where I can be the precise
moment where there is nothing to you but the second this
unknowable gravity that drew us
grows beyond the artifacts we encase,
becomes the key we both clutch and refuse to be separated from the home we reached to make.