OH, THREE HUNDRED

What is it about the hours of the morning just after three that ignites all of the latent feelings, thoughts, and words coursing within me?

What is it about the darkness that is just about to break that lets me admit to myself that I wish to write forever, and ever, about anything and everything for my consumption, your consumption?

What is it about no one else stirring around me that gives my soul the ease and space it needs to breathe in a good and healing breath and exhale out firmness of foot?

What is it about a world half-asleep, and me just steps from the land of dreams myself, that calls forth everything that has been in hiding, consciously and subconsciously, and says to me, “Be yourself, little one. Go on. Stretch your wings. Fly a little.”?

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WHAT WAS IT LIKE?

I wonder what it was like inventing romance;
to be the first to put your hand in someone else’s;
to touch a bit of their life;
to invent holding hands.

I wonder what it was like to first think,
“What if we held each other for a short period of time?”
to invent hugging.

I wonder what it was like to first wonder,
“What would happen if I put my mouth to yours?”
to invent kissing.

I wonder what it was like to feel so strongly about someone that you figure you love them;
to invent pouring your heart out.

I wonder what it was like to be the catalyst behind art of so many different forms.
to have invented love.