~Fist Sized Heart~
I can tell you that when I say I love you that I wish for more than words that form round sounds in my mouth, rolled around, tumbled out on the ground and wash away in dirty salt water streams. I want to gather sands from cold dark ocean pools in my pockets until I am heavy, white stars splattered across skies dragged close by the aching armful, the feathers of infinite cotton down blown in fields of milkweed warmed in my clenched fists, and all the lovers thoughts of all the hearts they may never fully hold pulled tight to me like a shawl. And because I can't say the words; they aren't even in a language that can be spoken from my lips to your ears. I put my hand on your chest and allow your heartbeat to pulse into my open palm. The rhythm moving up my arm and into my ribs and changing me. Electric stop of my heart. Restart to your beat. You are hearth and fire and home. And this familiar rhythm. It is the song my heart has always longed to sing. It only needed the metronome of you. In the soft milkweed nest of a fist. The size of a heart.