I want to know your process
So I can make it with you
The way you sketch until your nails are packed with graphite
And your warm hands smell of wood shavings and masking tape
I could hold them to my nose and die happy
I want to know how you change
So I can be there with you
As you chop off your hair
Let your eyebrows grow wilder and abandon heels for Birks.
Even your feet are now free
Tell me what makes your heart grow
And mine will grow too
How you smell the top of a baby’s head watching the sun dip over the ocean.
There’s a margarita with salt in your hand
And the lime stings at your cuticle, but it’s a good hurt.
Show me the hidden parts of you
So I can see all of you
The way you shield yourself from criticism
Even your own. How you fight for everyone
But yourself. How you believe these parts are more hidden than they are.
Know I am here for the process.
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