Stardust

38

five senses

love looks at me with eyes that crinkle into slits when you smile, similar to half-crescent moons that glow in the night. at times, its twinkling irises can be two full moons, gazing and memorizing me with an expression of faint admiration—as if i were the sunset.

in the morning, love tastes like the mints you keep in your bag, fresh and cool to the tongue, its hard surface contrasting the softness of your lips. during the night, love also tastes like warm chamomile tea slinking down my throat, doused with honey as sweet as the messages you send after hours spent with you.

in the spring, there is the waft of your scent, because love smells like tulips and the frosted glass cologne you wear to school—one that stays behind your neck, only worn away by my kisses. the smell lingers. it sticks to my sheets.

and in december, when the nights are long and cold, love feels like your hands wrapped around my waist, similar to the feeling of wearing a cozy blanket over my shoulders, where i'm shielded and protected into a fortress i could call mine. it's the euphoria of fingertips sliding against yours, heartbeats matching, palms pressed against the heat of each other's skin. and the nights don't feel icy anymore.

weaved in-between laughter and silence and late night calls, love is hearing the bass of your voice against the speaker of my phone, the slight mischief in your tone, or the dry humor from your lips as you drop the corniest dad jokes. it's hearing your chuckle when i get all flustered, or the soft breaths you release when i feel you up against the wall. there's love in the music of how my name rolls against your tongue, its vowels familiar and at home.

love is all of this, and all at once—activating my senses until i'm senseless and all there is left is the fuzzy feeling of warmth in my heart. love is you <3