You in a white dress. Excuse my active imagination at six and twenty six but the way the pristine snow fluttered like a bad heart in a clear blue breeze made my mind choke. Nested on your scalp before the plates fused, a million spiders dropped a million silken tethers and took off some day before I saw you. I never touched your hair but it’s the softest thing I ever wondered about, and when I crossed that bridge and carried you back I knew we would fight for this side of the threshold.
You with a lion face. I ran down the ridge of your temples to catty eyes and followed smooth tearless plains to your thin, pursed lips. When I was everything I hated, you were all coiled springs and hard ash and frightening elegance for a later time. I wanted to draw you like a bow. When I was unmanned you soothed me, and I was never so grateful for a gift given coldly.
You in the secret dark and the dust. I didn’t need a light down there when your blue eyes peered in after us. We went there to escape, and nothing was ever as easy as running away into you. You are the first thing that ever taught me Want.