your breath is hot on my shoulders
heavy
with pomegranate juice
purple drops of condensation on my skin

your face
drips of rosewater
tears never salty
or reminiscent of the sea

always sweet
always of spring

the smell before it rains and the taste of that first sip of tea in -20 degrees

the slow untangling of your thoughts with every beat of the drum, the way the wind blows right through you just enough to move you forward and never enough to blow you down

the sound of typing fingers when you know you're onto something good, the feeling of your own, and finally not his, skin

the seasons are changing and baby so are you / six senses are helping you develop into someone new

though you and I
have yet to travel
very far on Earth
through the night sky
I’ve lost count
of all the stars traversed