Miracle

we'll skip hellos and how ya beens
that shit has never mattered to people like
us
we only see things as they are
underneath that small talk hangs a scent of things you want to say
and that I am dying to hear.
I'd wait forever just to see
what might have been.
tickled pink by your fiery red
this is where I belong.
nestled inside the crook of your arm is where I find faith.
I don't think I believe in a god but then again
I think there must be one
because my hand on your face feels nothing short of a leper-curing, blind-healing,
miracle.