Poetry In Motion

 

My First Responder

He came to me on my 30th birthday, manuscript tucked under his arm,

eyes unfiltered and focused solely on me.

Confident, he crossed over the threshold of my house, plopped down on my couch,

and placed the book there between us — a novel that took me over 5 years to write,

and him just under 2 weeks to consume.

Anticipation pulsated against my veins as he flipped through the pages

recalling his favorite parts with such intimate detail that

I knew he had read every single line.

 

At lulls, I squirmed under his inquisitive stare, not yet comfortable being so vulnerable

and bare in a reader’s presence.

Unphased, he continued with questions, lauded me with praise,

and declared himself a fan.

I exhaled; a breath I had been holding onto for so long,

contentment found anew.

My first responder, forever true blue.

 

Being Seen,

A Warrior Princess

 

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