Not just your eyes,
though that, too,
not just your words,
I want your softness.
I want all the walls
around us down.
I want to stand
out under that big
starry sky and know
nothing except you
and me and big
starry sky. I want
your quiet. I want
your core. And I want
the thoughts under
your tongue, the ones
you keep there
afraid they will hurt
if they come
into the air,
small puffs
of vulnerable clouds,
and then I want
the strength to
be hurt and still
stand with you
there, open
as the field,
as the sky.