Petrichor

I wake among your roots,

Turning my head to where your skin breaks the soil,

Nestling my lips deeper,

Gritty kisses in the morning.

Biting back the gristled edges of your bark,

To reach inside you, where I breathe

and breathe

and breathe,

Pulling you into my lungs, where the silence waits,

And my heart stirs, sluggish, damp, slow and sticky.

A chrysalis wet and heavy, melted forms inside,

Coming back together an alien moth.

I beat the moon with my wings,

And it’s raining inside me,

As I rot into you.

My bones become yours,

You smell like home.