sometimes i look at you and wonder why you havent left a trail of broken hearts.
why people don’t fall over their feet when you walk by;
and then i remember.
your feet fall so softly on the earth, so gently,
that the wings of a pīwakawaka are louder — yet
your presence here is not absence.
people don’t fall over,
they simply watch.
they don’t break their hearts over you,
because there is nothing about you that could bring pain.
ahakoa he iti he pounamu.
“despite being small, you are of great value.”
when you are around,
evening breath falls on my neck
the sun rises from my toes to my jaw
and from my jaw to my atlas i’m kissed with moonlight
your voice is a siren-song
beckoning to find a home in your arms
and i will gladly steer my ship to rest on the glittering blue-white sand
and i will stumble up the shore
drunk with love and sea-brine
to envelop you until my lungs give to ash
and my breath is only smoke
and we will twist and drift and desperately find each other again
a crackling bonfire on marine parade
alights the face of two lovers
and they weep as they dance,
carrying 8 years behind them.
