She Spoke in Waterfall

She floated in the dark between stars,

a soft mouth made of moss and memory.

When she opened her lips,

the truth fell out—

cold, clear, endless.

It sounded like rain on my chest,

like the kind of love

you don’t come back from.

I tried to drink it,

but it burned;

the honesty of it,

the way it tasted like everything

I’d buried under small talk and silence.

She smiled—

vulnerable yet powerful.

And I realized,

the universe doesn’t whisper,

it weeps.

Because even Mother Nature

has secrets she can’t hold forever.