b e s i t o v e r s u s b e s o t e

waiting here, as if on a shelf but with knees crossed.  the things we thought that mattered don't much matter.  hips are are high, heels are low, hands press. and flying in the face of love, are successes.  holding us like binding, like seams. woven in the fresh, braided and plated in love, sottered and besotted, our successes.  i became learned in the spaces between
i got a taste for fruit which i can't shake the sand keeps coming out of the crevices everything i carry feels heavy when compared with the lightness of last week vision is blurred for now and my words switch hey where am i when i was recently somewhere so sweet