She

She was the flower in the barefoot spring. I felt like I knew her in every life before. She took me into her like I belonged; She’s everything I never asked for. I wouldn’t have known quite what to say, The words I saved, I just gave away. I am something wavering like a summer storm; You asked me inside when I wept at your door. And I laid poppies down at your feet, For every goddess lost in mutiny, For all the things we’ll never be. I am something you saved; I am the thing you pluck at when you’re awake. I am the weed that keeps you at bay. In my life I’ve wondered many things, But none of them speak, The way that you have in my dreams. The way your head felt against my cheek, Your body as it unfolded into sleep. I never asked you for anything, But, my ‘Thene, Why can’t it be me?