Love is a walk around the autumn pond
My heart resides on the paper in my pocket
I almost wrapped it in a box
To leave at your doorstep

Your cologne and cigarettes stain my hair
When you wrap me in the fabric of your forearms
Lets sit on leaf-scattered grass
Hold a picnic in the middle of December
Lets bring French coffee and pancakes

Too

Much is never enough
As I tattooed feathers on my arms
They are your feathers
Dipped in the ink
From the sonnets you wrote to me
On my paper in the front pocket
Of these worn in jeans.

I could have kissed you
up against the stained wall
when no one was looking
and the lights were shining neon.

I could have kissed you
walking up the granite steps
on the roof of the music building
when the stars seemed perfect
and I was drunk.

I could have kissed you on my cerulean sheets
with your tan arm wrapped around my bones
where the music was faintly dancing
and I realized you had lovely hazel eyes.

but I kissed you in the basement
where you held me without force
and the kisses were lyrical
as they trailed down my neck
I fell for the gentleness of your hands
and the sweet smile on your face.