I know how our fingers would interlace. Like this and that. Delicate yet determined. As porcelain scales in serene movements. Iridescent in ways our thoughts could not convey. How beautifully we are made in the ways we trace out along soft skins the words that linger within us.
I am still looking for a soft heart in the eyes of a someone. A wild and innocent soul. Always breathless to take in a new horizon. Someone who is waiting to drive into the night and wants me to join them.
