Fireworks on our breath

And I fell in love. Over and over again. I fell in love reading Rumi, and the way that his sparkling, dancing words twirl off the page. The way they curve off my tongue and laugh their way into the air. 

I fell in love reading Rumi to you, whispering until my lips felt too big. You listened and smiled in all the right parts. Like laying there and reading Rumi was just a narration of the moment. Everything in the right place, sparks on the air, firecrackers on my breath. 

I fell in love feeling salt in my hair and watching the curve of the ocean, seamless and soundful. I fell in love with the giggles and the absolute total control they take on my belly. I fell in love again and again.

I fell in love with tiny feet and baby eyelashes that bat the air away. I fell in love with the softness of children and their never-ending energy. Like nothing exists yet but the purity of their souls. I fell in love with seeing it. 

I fell in love with the realization that someone else's body seemed just as familiar as mine. That I will never know all the nooks and crannies, but the parts I do know feel like an extension of my own. Your hand in mine feels a hundred years old and brand new.  

I fell in love with the pure, ecstasy that Gypsy displayed when I came home. If only humans knew how to express their joy so wholly and purely. Running in circles for 5 minutes, pouncing on my head, licking my toes, making sure I was real. If only I had the purity to show that to you when I see you. 

Let this dance find its way into every corner. Let this love pile up into mounds of gold. I have nothing figured out. But I have this.