At Last (a Love Letter)
The silk is in your soul.
It drapes over every curve and scar,
allowing me to climb
higher
than I believed possible.
I am no longer my press.
No longer the words of others,
both those who loved and those who hated.
I climb the stairs to my own heaven,
at last,
no longer alone.
And if the words I own are insufficient,
my love, at last, finally,
with all its flaws and broken pieces,
is not.
About this poem.
We have been together for several years now. Married for over a year. You think I’d be at least a little complacent.
I am not.
To
