improper as incomplete promises.

I woke up to a sunset sky. These days the northern hemisphere moves from grey into deep red and pink sunset and we wake up to darkness and new beginnings. What novel truths lie there, in our inner most dwellings, where the dirt is damp and deep and rich in nutrients? A tender space where we practice intimacy and vulnerability and softer ways of speaking to ourselves and those around us. I need practice, I’m rusty. The softest words I know were handed to me by other beings. Here are soft words, an offering back to the inner worlds that want so desperately to come out into the open. We need not hide. Stable isn’t enough. The fields are ours to dance in. Or if we let Q dictate: “a meadow door opens into improper love” With care, Sarah. where do we go from here? Tempo broke cloaked believers into shattered beginnings reminding us again that there are moments before requirements when space and kinship are held out as doubts benefit from our need for each other Where we believe in each other beyond disappointment and into wondering if maybe next time we can try something different Listening for acceptance in between the kind tickling and laughter Holding our breath for the moment when air is abundant and time is not constrained, We fled to be able to stay and now staying makes us miss marks points and home is a panicked haphazard sonnet Beautiful but sensitive to after shocks - adapt or quit and then adapt when they find and try to move us Where do we go to ride this s**t out? —— ‘cause i forgot about you or me awhile ago ages have passed me by hanging out with you and we went everywhere we could look up to see jumped in their anything we would experience and got lost in thoughts until you were beside me in thinking when i fell behind you continued holding onto us we made decisions because we did not learn what i learned from experience talked over in conversations where listening easily replaced hearing when being felt was misunderstood by our words and you were untouchable and so leaves in fall’s breathe escape our grasp while kissing our cheeks flushed with hope where do we remember us? Upper & lowercase: Sarah Bitamazire case [in]sensitive: quincéy.xavier film: Alexandria Clair Get full access to substantive.material at substantivematerial.substack.com/subscribe