his eyes are not just
blue
or green
or grey

they are more like a summer sea
how the sun’s flares flicker along the edge of an evergreen mountain horizon
signalling the start or end of another day

his eyes remind me of a winter morning
coloured like light frost
that has kissed the leaves of the forest

his eyes remind me of an overcast autumn
how the leaves warm up
against the cloudy grey skies

As you play with my fingertips
I am reminded
how easily I can lose you
just as much as
how easily I can have you

he has kissed my forehead
at least a hundred times before
still, each and every one of them feel brand new
lips collide
like water meets land
“you have soft lips”
and now with this urge to kiss him again
and again
and once more
until they pulse red
he hasn’t travelled far
but his hands roam and venture
every curve
with care and wonder
I drown in the deep of his blue eyes
everyday
and I don’t mind

I (am)

three
thousand
five
hundred
and
eleven
kilometres

(from) you