you’ll taste her through your skin / and know her, in a rush, in a moment –
in the way the tang of your own blood is familiar as an echo, she will come
in rushed breath, softened lungs exhaling the stuff of dreams before dreams were crushed by mortal mind and
be a miracle beneath you / a shifting mirage between you (and you)
deliverance from divinity.
– t. bennett ; @raggedhearts