At Last (a Love Letter)
The silk is in your soul.
It drapes over every curve and scar,
allowing me to climb
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,
no longer alone.
And if the words I own are insufficient,
my love, at last, finally,
with all its flaws and broken pieces,
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.