the steam that sits

admit

that there is the breath that bears my name

it travels like a wisp of steam

as you bathe in the morning

feeling like that last Sunday moment 

i kissed your neck 

while fixing your necklace 

and all it asks

is that you make that breath a voice

that you call it what it is

before the day begins 

and it sits in traffic 

within the veins wrapped in 

the skin of hazelnuts

and flourishing summer off the Jubba

the steam that sits on your chest

and calls to you

is the breath that bears my name

asking you to exhale

and free us both