EPIPHANY
I’m no longer trying to make sense
The context of our texts
lends no hint of what’s next
I shall once again surrender
Consider my submission legal tender
A promissory note a duet of we
your voice playing me every time I breathe,
Your whisper moves me partnered like a minuet
Every word I believe bound to a pain dulcet
How great is this journey until respite in my chest
I go out of mind walking when anxiety is a guest
The places we hardly go or have never been
Somehow the air carries a lingering scent
I know THIS laughter of your joy makes sense.