june came promising thrill;
with rain, love stories
spread in drizzled whispers.
& i have spent my evenings caressing
guitar strings & dedicating songs
to the chill breeze.
it's hard to recover
when you've been baptised
by moonlight/ washed
in a woman's eyes.
& this girl i'm in love with reminds me of april;
of the softness of light dew,
of wet grass, &
luminous skies.
these are the kind of things that make poets;
the taste of june, starry nights,
& someone to love.
i will keep her smile in my pocket.
& teach july her name.
YOU ARE READING
Endless. Blue
Poetry"the day you first told me you loved me, it was hot, the sun picked at our skins like god was trying to kill us with a magnifying glass. . ."
