I touch you in a place
most look past,
a place within reach.

It is within this place
I feel most alive.

The space between hearts,
the space between fingers,
interlocked, soft and slow.

No one really pays attention
to the space mid-heartbeat
only the beginning and the end
of palpation.

But here, I taste the air
and come to life.

It’s not heavy.
In fact, I am weightless.

But I feel it
in the hopes that you reciprocate.

No different than the space
between minutes,
simply ticking.

The world is not ours,
but that isn't a reason to be afraid.

When I think about you,
I visit this place,
not afraid to knock on your ribs,
with every intention
to exist closer to your heart