the new sacred is the way she laughs when i tell her a funny story
never in my life have i been prone to worship
until i met
her smile,
i had forgotten
what it feels like to be in awe
of the way someone loves you
i had forgotten
what it means to feel
unworthy and perfect at the same time
i had forgotten
how to feel like yours
in several small inklings i have realized
how she fits into parts of me that i had forgotten were missing –
places that never saw the light of day till
now
like sun
like spring flowers
like coming out of hibernation
i am
tip-toeing
hushing my heart
molding circumstances to
make us work
hold my hand
worship bodies
our toes touching
stay with me
goddess
lover
light
dear heart.
ABIGAIL PEARSON is a 22-year-old queer writer of novels and poetry. She has a black cat that she loves to cuddle with as she drinks tea and reads Dostoyevsky. Abigail has recently published a poetry collection titled A Mad Woman’s Voice and she has been published in Moonchild Magazine, The Slag Review and Cease, Cows.
She resides in Eugene, OR.
The Cabinet of Heed 