I wanted to know the taste of your scent.
Not your name, the way you're biting your lower lip
Or when was the last time you brushed your shoulder of someone passing by.
I didn't want your eyes on me,
I merged with the environment in which I found you,
In the frozen air and in the move of your hands when you remove your hair from your cheeks.
I wanted to know the diameter of your pupils,
A reflection of your face in the water, intersected with lotus leaves.
You stopped between my steps and I remained transfixed,
Terrified by your proximity,
Your universe, thousands of light-years distant from mine,
Your dimension, painted in the colors of purple and rotting peaches.
Your breath, elusive unknown,
Rang out in a space in which I found myself trapped with you,
Bordered by my unspoken longing
And with the way the wind touched your eyelashes.
And you moved on, with my eyes
Imprinted in the depths of your body,
Leaving me and my desire to find out
What shade of blue do you dream
And how many wisps tangle around your fingers
When you pass them through your hair.