By Emily Olorin
Love is the storm,
That set me adrift
That set me gasping
That cut me free from my moorings and
Left me for dead.
Love is both executioner,
And enabler,
Depending on where my body lands.
I run my fingers through your hair and realise,
Oh,
This is love.
The first inhalation
out of water
Damp, and gasping, and
Euphoric.
I breathe you in.
You are as the glimpse
Of dry land in a storm.
Your skin
An island and
My touch
The slow mapping of unknown planes
As a storm rages above.
In another sea, perhaps,
Another time,
I would flounder under the weight of the waves;
Desperate, gasping,
Drowned.
But instead,
In your hair, your skin,
The mingling of our breath,
I have found safe harbour.