nothing is worthy.

sunday evenings spent with the ghost traces of your fingertips. with words that were spoken, they bounce off these cinderblocks. 
i decided to make a green apple my dinner. 
the familiar sour juice that spills down my chin took me to nights spent fighting, apple stickers placed on walls as reminders. 
i didn’t need a reminder of the absence. 
the void of hearts and interests. 
i didn’t need a reminder. 

i just needed what i have now. 

i wonder about dialed calls. saccharine text messages sent by former lovers. 
my night’s a blur and all i hear is an annoyed voice at the other end of the line. 
the sound of the voice becomes yet another catalyst for an irreconcilable cleave. 

i really do only need what you have to offer. it’s a strange new feeling – of wants and needs satiated with passion. 
i am rooted in the earth surrounding you. and i’m healthier than i’ve ever been. 
stimulated in so many ways.
i am at home in yours. where words are formed behind my tongue, slipping out while we enjoy the company, the weather, the simple task of setting the table. 
though we agree those 3 words are given power because of a lack of a better phrase (a society-constructed meaning), we give them their own mystic power by the shocking warmth with which it hits our ears and how our eyes meet. 
it was a perfect moment of clarity – the words didn’t come from my head, but deep within my chest. they were like a bird that had been fluttering around inside my rib cage for days and finally escaping, with a shiver of pleasure, a rush of blood, and a feeling of faintness. 

‘i don’t want to cheapen it,’ you say. 
but how could it be when its first clear utterance was an uncontrolled movement from the center of my body? a shocking admittance even for the tongue and lips that delivered it. 
like our fox who says "you can only see well with your heart." 

the story is just beginning. 
a plot line already thick with beautiful twists and turns. 
i take time to enjoy the syntax. the double entendres. the metaphors. the long allegorical anecdotes and our hidden meanings said through lyrics and public statements. 

spring is in full bloom. lying in the grass with you i feel the newness of the soft, waxy spring life beneath my back. and the breath of newness resting in the dip in my elbow, warming my neck with its whispers.  
i have no qualms about being directionless for a while. 
about existing next to you in the exciting novelty that is our newly asserted love. 

i want to go back to that spot in the woods you call yours, climbing limbs and watching the waxing of affections with every step forward.