Trying to tiptoe down the stairs. With the heat, and the light, it was like I could see the air. My feet are bare and dancing for you. In hopes to leave you in your slumber. You have been in my life for eight years and three days. Don't tell me age is just a number. Do tell me how I smiled before you. Completely. Certain things were put into place before you. Cracking me. Patiently. Uplifting the edges. Steeper, and steeper. Until you were here. Then and only then...
My disabled legs were suddenly capable...
...dancing on these stairs in the summer air.
Maybe this is breathing.
