murmur

love is a language i learned in my sleep,
picked up fragments the first time i dreamt her face

found i could speak a sentence the first time she offered to hold my hand-
stuttering, shaking, wobbling on newborn deer legs whie we spun into the stars

whispered it gently against the soft white shell of her ear,
kissed it into the waves of her hair while she marked me softly as if to say
"we are the same" and "i am here" and "i will be here"

vomited phrases like a waterfall when her warm hands found the too-far-curve of my hip-
phrases i did not know i knew until the that moment, my soul beating wildly in her hand
mouthwash on her tongue and lace in her eyes

love is a language i learned in my sleep
an ancient tongue buried in my heart by something deep and stirring and terrifying

love is a language i learned in my sleep
and i cannot bear to live without it