Only One Mountain Can Know

My Blood Is A Miracle That, From My Veins, Crosses The Air In My Heart Into Yours.

I Had Something In My Throat. It Felt Like I Had Swallowed The Whole World.

I Am That Clumsy Human, Always Loving, Loving, Loving. And Loving. And Never Leaving.

You Loved A Man With More Hands Than A Parade Of Beggars, And Here You Stand. Heart Like A Four-poster Bed. Heart Like A Canvas. Heart Leaking Something So Strong They Can Smell It In The Street.”

Can One Invent Verbs? I Want To Tell You One: I Sky You, So My Wings Extend So Large To Love You Without Measure.