I don’t tell myself ‘I love you…’

I don’t tell myself ‘i love you”
I let the sun caramelize my skin
I watch the ocean lazily trace
All of the places that I’ve been

I bury my toes in ancient soil
Lift my head to an indigo sky
I am buoyed by the silence
And the absence of so-called time.

I’ll make myself a picnic:
strawberries and a cup of chai;
fall asleep swaddled by cicadas
And an owl’s lullaby.

And if i awake there will be no darkness
Only the heart that is my own 
In spite of night,
I have somehow learned 
To build myself a home.

I’ll watch the fireflies pirouette
Hear the cricket’s drunken cries
Let the moon turn my skin to ink
Dance with the dragonflies.

Then I’ll swaddle myself in paper
and the words will write themselves,
as I comb my weathered palms
Through old books on older shelves. 

I don’t tell myself “i love you”
I let myself create
Allow these petals to sprout and blossom
Because such beauty is worth the wait

I bury my mind in ancient stories
Lift my soul up to an ocean of stars
I don’t tell myself “i love you”
I feel it with all my heart.