I can feel your words weave in
and out of the spaces between my very breaths.
I feel sentences string themselves together
somewhere beneath my sternum,
pulling my heartstrings,
deep beneath a driving force
which even I could barely define:
“Kindred,” I nearly choke out,
as suddenly every one of your
premises uses my mouth as a conclusion.
You have “run away with me”
written in fine print on your eyelashes.