Featured image Marker | Basement of my Brain

Sixteen

You used to sleep on me,
soothed by being held,
by the sounds of my body,
by the rhythm of my breath.

I remember your soft warmth,
surrendered weight, total trust.
Fists uncurling on my chest,
fingers tangled in my hair.

Such tender, ferocious,
aching love — pulsing through me,
it felt like every heartbeat 
I would ever have.

Cell by cell, you became
who you are.  Now
tall as me, you sleep late,
hold your own dreams.

But that love still burns,
an unwavering fire — 
warmth if you are sleepless,
light if you are lost.

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