it's 3am and I'm scared I'll squash the jessamines that fell from your damp honeycomb hair while we danced to foreign songs on white sheets.
the sun sighs when I tell her of our walks on marigold beaches and how we don't seem to mind the blueberry ice-cream that drips onto our shoelaces from our entwined hands in the summer heat. and it's strange that we can stare in each others eyes like sweet rose lovers though we don't even know each other's name,
but i don't mind because you're an angel wildflower growing from the cracks of the sidewalk floor and without you, I know there is no such
thing as love.
