sometimes it's the absence of weather
and not the storms 
that feels so troubling
in love.
as if a torrential downpour or heatwave or drought
could better convince me i'm alive
when really 
it was the big of your hand
on the small of my back
that made the sky fall.

i have tried to pull daggers 
from the soft cavern of my words
but dropped them against the echoing 
i am you.

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