I wasn't her first.
Or her second. Or third. But I didn't need to be. I said
"I'm no good with words", and she said
"they don't speak to me anyway.
Anyway you were the first
to run your hands down my body, stop at my chest
and ask me if it hurts". When she said yes,
I told her yes too.
To this day she says "that was the moment
I fell in love with you"

it is raining,
with a smokiness
lisping through the
stifling air.

the haze tightens
its fist around my
neck - red tremors
in my eyes

the trembles of the
fog are grace in my
ears; but smoke alarms
still tick in these halls.

Her soft petals fall,
easy as wild poetry:
muse for medicine.