December,
Life with you
In the midst of winter, tones of white.
Snow; undisturbed, coldly white and opaque.
Shades of warm and cool, fading navy skies,
flickering lights outside abandoned schools and a brew after morning suns,
balconies of wooden flooring and astonishing views of travelling lights, trying
to find warmth in winter light.
Ginger brown locks and soil-seated deep
eyes in the very shape of almonds, ode of the fresh thrifted mixture of
lavender and wood, a kiss of his flickers through my stomach as it lights up
every dark corner right below my epidermis.
January,
My favorite smile, you get more beautiful
each day, words are not enough to intimate sentences of the shimmering
periwinkle and golden of your skin and bones.
February,
Feeling like putting hands on something
sharp is everyday, invincibly temporary
Of course.
On a February dawn, where the lamps’
lambent spheres bob in and out of glimpse—as the sunshine overcomes
presence—being with you, like souls dancing in the fires of Hell, an ogre of a
dream, a curse to be this shadow compared to the glow of a divine- which is
you.
You are the other half of my being and I am
Incomplete.
