words fail to convey the message in a bottle
voices trail off into the dark, they cannot read the lips of the emotions I feel.
with crystal windows ajar, you are perfect to my eyes
the flawed mistakes create a portal of truth, a knowing, a familiar scent.
it’s like standing on the shore, letting the sea wash over my feet as I sink slowly.
but that’s the point; it feels like home.
subtly I drink from your cellar, aged beauty in a glass, drunk in your essence
I feel the flowers brushing over my face, the butterflies in my stomach feeding from the nectar of our synergy
everything is bright and filled with color, even the black and white
I hear the whispers; screaming out all that our feelings seek to speak
I know you’re him; soulmate, yin.
Picture; Oliver Kumbi taken by Fredrik Wannerstedt