magoski
To awaken—
not into light,
but into play.
A trembling laugh
held between two breaths,
a measure of contraction,
We come out late,
always late,
our hearts buttoning shirts,
our courage half-tied.
Lest you ask,
lest you beg—
the night already knows
what we’re trying not to say.
Smile,
The air hums electric—
a soft, invisible
crack
under the clinking of glasses.
We sip.
We laugh.
&'n that small defiance,
something ancient unfolds:
a worm twisting in sunlight,
joy
remembering its body
& touch