{On, In, and Around Mondays} The Storehouse

The Storehouse

The afternoon swells wide and wraps us in minutes long and fat
I have the desire to capture your quiet self
the one that speaks so loudly
within the structure of your head and your heart
yet masks itself with mute lips
on an ordinary day

In the beginning we come together
and there is tenderness
sometimes the closeness squeezes out tears
dripping belief that has yet to find words
perhaps that is the very definition of safe?

In the stillness that follows you reach for my hand
and in that singular moment
my heart is burned upon yours
bespoken for an eternity
not easily broken this corded strand

We sit opposite each other
so as to face the truth rather than sidle up beside it
because sometimes you have to look fear in the eye
and call out the demons
for there is nowhere to hide in love's gaze

And for the first time in a while
I hear you
You, replete with knowledge bursting,
are cloaked in doubt
and all I want to do is unwrap the lie

For you are my bonny love
and when the sun rises and sets
it drapes your silhouette upon my being
filling out the strength of my arms
into which I sheathe you now