baby gardenias growing from cherry sorbet lips. the sun plants itself on your nimble fingertips; the mother sky covered in your soft kisses. a warm diamond on your left hand, often getting caught in grapevines of
spanish gardens. bathing in
sunburnt glory on saturday
afternoons; swallowing penumbra
in sticky toffee throats. moonglazed eyes, sweetheart sunshine bleeding from your fingers when you
touch my skin.
an angel lover sleeping with
both eyes open.
we find ourselves wandering
where the stars do not lumber.
