my heart has seen many fronts, but this may be different ::..:::.::.:
it makes me want to be less poetic, and let the brute take me whole. backhand on my forehead with my palms open ::..::.::.::.
i have loss all that is familiar…
in the absence of it, i discovered that i left myself behind ::.::::

a safe space, a heaven, if not a home ::.:::..::
there is no warmth i have gravitated to quicker than that which resides in your tender

what familiarity do i know you from? i’ve met you more than twice.

i can tell
by the way you’ve made my cortex thrum arwy ::.:::..:::