i carved a hole in my heart and stuffed it with the things you love.

what would it mean to be in love with you

when you are almost thirty-five... 

like falling again into breathlessness

and an ache that feels like the home 

you made when you were twenty-three. 

how does a world form? 

what magic is left in the spaces you filled? 

where do you sleep?

what do you dream? 

when you learned how to be a mirror 

at thirteen, 

I wonder if you stopped to think about where

your interests would live. 

if you were to find yourself in the backyard, 

I wonder if she would have them. 

She is nine, and five, and four. 

She likes dirt and writing and 

feeling safe... 

whatever that means. 

At almost thirty-five, 

I become you. 

I forget what it's like to feel safe

inside.