She Tells Me.

She Tells me that she loves me, but only in subtle tones.
Cause we know that the water in which we swim is shallow still,
and finding depth in the distance is our destination.
Besides, she tells me right now that she is a wave of emotions
rippling under feet so accustomed to being cautiously steady.

So I tell her that we are lucky,
Because we have always loved the Ocean
And we have seldom feared the deep.
So I tell her that swimming in our water
Feels like a baptism
Washing away the impurities
Of the way we used to Love;
selfish and reckless
Drowning in the limit of possibility.

She tells me that she likes the rain.
Especially in the spring time.
When sun shines in collaboration with the cleansing of skies
Where clouds fall into graves eager to be resurrected.
And she tells me their reflections are beginning to emerge in
soil that sprouts to life in eyes awakened.

And I tell her that we can never hold raindrops in our hands
But we can let them wash us clean.
For they will tell us their stories of redemption,
Like how we learn to become beautiful goodbyes evaporating upon impact
Or how letting go of sterile words releases our fears into
Tightly knit threads needled into equations that reveal to us how
Love never divides, it only multiplies.
And how numbers,
much like love, water, and possibilities,
are infinite.



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