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If I could write

I’d tell you your eyes look a lot like stained-glass,
with the sun shining through - a Monday sunset.
And your voice sounds like a new pumpkin spice candle,
when I breathe you in you taste of the beach,
with seagulls and sand and sunshine.
Your thighs feel like home - a place I haven’t
visited in ages but -
you make that okay
because when I grab your hair I feel wind through the pine trees,
and when I press against you I feel an ice cube down my spine.
I’ve made your heart my canvas -
And I’m painting in watercolors
so we can fade into one another effortlessly,
joined by pigments of sight,taste,touch,smell.




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