Uma Hanaedai do not open you —
you open yourself
and i
become still
page by page
we speak in languages
older than words
we read slowly
lest a single letter slip
we linger
until the lines recognize us
under our hands
aww read me
while i discover you
not to explain
only to stay
as i read you
you write me forward —
under your hands
in my breath
quietly
between two beats
and eventually
we hardly know
who carries the story
and who is carried