#love poem
For your listening pleasure, I turn as old as I was born,
stroke the bumpy skin of our whisky illness, manage the pyramids
we’ve never climbed or crawled within,
enter the Morocco never wrapped by your feet
kissing pebbles, visiting your veins, telling you mythologies
that include how we are the sores of hope riding
the backs of tomorrow, mountain peaks we climb
and shout the names of those to come and those who’ve been,
each of us who happens to be the world’s greatest against every
shade of sky, and every sky that cradles our dying heads, still living.
- Amy King
![Ishy ; (This is wusupp'] [: by ishthefish](http://25.media.tumblr.com/avatar_bd7b757a66b6_24.png "Ishy ; (This is wusupp'] [: by ishthefish"){kind=avatar}
