You are precious to me.

Do you know…
your freshly dried hair
make the sound of
thousands of tiny silver bells
when they are tousled?
You are precious to me.

Do you see…
when you take a bath
under candle-light,
there spread diamonds
on your golden skin?
You are precious to me.

Do you hear…
your thoughts
as they
hit the right timbre
echoing in my dusty & grim chamber?
You are precious to me.

Do you taste…
the fertile sea,
whiffs of
salts & organic matter
amalgamating a single entity?
You are precious to me.

Do you feel…
the unspoken innuendo
getting cold
while new colors
rushing forward in glee?
You are precious to me.

Do you pray…
less because you are
afraid or helpless
but for those if without
you would never see as clearly?
You are precious to me.

Do you sing…
that wordless, formless song
got passed down down
and still it’s the way it is
& you understand?
You are precious to me.

Do you fly…
to a place that
no-one-can-see-
everything-can-see-
you-see-that-you-can?
You are precious to me.

Do you write…
like a slaver
building cages for meanings
with words that
can never quite cut it?
You are precious to me.

Do you gaze…
into the deep, find comfort there,
lose yourself, bring it back,
(back & forth) x 2
ever since you became afraid of that one thing?
You are precious to me.

I like the hair.
I like the diamonds & gold.
I like the sound, the salt, the song, the thoughts.
I am precious to me.