the season plants a flower in your heart

bursting and growing from light like nectar

your finger tips (for a flashing moment) feel my skin-

my warm thigh,

and releases.

my heart wrestling and thrashing,

hoping for a bright moment,

to see you once again

“this is the beginning!” “this is the beginning!”

and yet I still tangle in bedsheets as if it were years passing by

throbbing and aching—

clenched eyelids means memory,

my memory, over and over

until the script is rehearsed and the images in stone

I will remember everything from the sea I’ve been thrown

from, oh, come back to me.