𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗒

04 | IN REMINISCENCE

i find myself longing
for not the simpler
past years of my life
— but aspects of it
that have and will
forever enclose my
young heart in soft
mellifluous sounds
and honeyed smells
from my childhood

and sometimes in
your laughter, i will
catch a whiff of
stardust on your
tongue and the
sunshine will filter
through every
strand of your hair
like melted butter
scotch as if you
were an angel and
it were your halo

in these moments,
i dissolve into the
simpler days where
i picture myself
laying back against
lush green hills that
perfectly follow the
curve of my spine
in such a way that
it feels as if i am
floating in a body
of water or drifting
through the vast
tableau of the milky
way

and i'm enveloped
in sunlight like a
love letter that still
lingers of the others
perfume even as the
air is diluted with
those familiar
honeyed smells and
mellifluous sounds
from my childhood

beloved, when you
speak or laugh or do
anything at all that
embodies your sheer
happiness you
become a time
machine— of sorts—
because, god, when
you're filled with
joy, your existence
sure does bring me
back to those simpler
past years of my life

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WRITTEN 12:57PM