Sunrise Ritual

an early mourning stroll, and hours spent passing through as many neighbourhoods, and sometimes you sob so violently that you cannot contain noises breaking past your lips, sounds usually repressed. sometimes you can only sob while pacing the streets, and sometimes you must spend hours shaking, shaking, pacing the streets. step after step. you roll your shoulders, gasp; i think of making you a playlist. i think about the order of the songs so i can communicate to you my witness. oh, how precious you are. my Love, we sit on secrets. there is more to say, that which surpasses language. perhaps, music could help approximate; and Dearest, i digress. not a playlist. i decide upon a poem instead, gracelessly splattering ink in an attempt at abstraction, to bring another viewpoint of Love into focus. just for you. the house gardens contain miracles. wrong pillow. neck knot. ache.