liquid takes the shape of a solid.

i found you in the pit of change
grey with no shape,
no mold for me or anyone else to fit into.
i found you when songs were my friends
and alone sounded like safety.

all i wanted was a new story, really.
i had been marked by loss in a way that i was growing nauseous of.
i had tried every move i could to rid myself of the ache
my teeth were sore
my diaphragm void
from trying to pull the pain out of me somehow,
and then you welcomed it when it fell upon
your ears.

it had never occurred to me to let it sit alone,
that it was a part of me that i had to nurture like i do everything else,
the same way i brush my hair
and sleep till noon.
you hold it like a basin that was handmade,
the mold i was looking for.

nighttime is sweet now
i read you poems and you say “more” while already dreaming.
kiss my ring finger,
speak to me with knowing
and belief feels good again.
and even in moments where i have been made to feel as though i overflow,
the basin of you gets bigger
and i don’t feel like i make such a mess anymore.
hold me.
hold me like this and i’ll know i was always meant to take shape in you.