he is rose water.
an air conditioned home, soft corners and a song your mother used to sing.
he is coal and smiles and learning to dance
fingers locked and cheeks pressed against a foggy window, frozen toes and big jackets
he is the top of a mountain and wisps of smoke
he is the blush in your cheeks the sea in your eyes the ringing in your ears he is everywhere
in the dip of your ankle, the future wrinkles on your face from every time he made you smile, the slope of your hips and the skin on your chest, the tangles in your hair and the dimple in your cheek
you cannot let him go. this is for sure.
