You placed that long, humming conduit in me and I jolted, a surge in the dam, my limbs stuttering like loose wires, no rhythm, no balance —just current.
Sometimes love sits stagnant— like excess water in a wide flower ***. Other days, it’s just enough for tender roots on a balcony, absorbed and quietly drunk.
It swells and thins like a tide beneath the surface— shaping what grows above.