When you speak I see cascades of life.
Life and light tend to look the same.
Your light is turquoise and the color of jade sitting just beneath the surface of choppy water.
When you speak I feel heat.
You have yet to burn me.
You are the steady warmth of new born embers of a fire yet to blaze.
When you speak I smell salt water.
Even with a sting, you’re the most refreshing thing.
The ocean is not as paradoxical as your passionately calm surface.
When you speak I taste loneliness.
Bitter sweet like underripe tangerines.
I cannot know this beautiful mind of yours without encountering a cold, rusty, metal wall.
When you speak I hear midnight.
You know how to play the silences.
I hold my breath waiting for the next sentence you’re carefully, mysteriously orchestrating.
Whisper or shout; continue to speak to me.