Can you tell me what it's like
To be open
To crack open
To twist and rub your oil-coated insides until something turns you over?
If you twisted the key to the other side, you might find emerald tendrils of tall flowers you've never met before climbing up to your chin.
You may find a sapphire bug sitting on that flower wearing a woven vest with a pistachio beak and large golden eyes that know you and contain glitter.
If you had the patience enough to sit with me and glide your hand across my back, you might walk through a heavy wooden door. The outside is warm but through is warmer, lit by an unseen sun and coral colored stars, also invisible behind a sky that exists in a color that doesn't have a name yet.
The solar system lives behind me.
The whole thing.
It's dark and familiar all at once.
I'm younger back there but also ageless.
I greet your smile with the warm hush of my meditation,
but you always knew what to expect.