Dearest Victoria
My mind wanders these days, in the familiar space between us, between yesterday and tomorrow. Here, in this now, when the day is unfolding beautifully, I feel more alive than I did yesterday, than I will tomorrow.
And throughout this dawn, when aliveness is the sun, while you lie peacefully dreaming, I reach toward you. From your breath that draws my hand upon your chest, where it rests and lingers on the quiet lifting.
For I will never know the moment it passes; it will go into the wheeling hands of memory. My fear: that you will forever be etherized in the tenderness of my heartbeat.
Here, in this now, when our breathing aligns under a new morning sky, I drum that heartbeat against your chest.
You arise, opening your eyes, and my fear passes. Where it goes remains unnamed. Further, in the distant reaches of your eyes, I see not the sun but the flowering of your soul. From the feet of crows to the crease around your nose, and the freckles in between.
Dawn-kissed and heavy-eyed, you slip like liquid through my ribs and still my heart, squeezing me close and retreating back into little death.
Copyright © Yves Mael | Year Posted 2026
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