There's a haze-around the thoughts of you, a soft filtered glow,lighter in the corners and warm splashed flares that fill the frames.
Were there flowers in your veins, petals soaked blood that blossomed across your cheeks?
Maybe this is why your lips tasted of lavender. Are we the love we have made, are we more than the breath
that rose and the blush that spread and the shaking hands holding shaking backs?
I never knew my memory i could come saturated with texture and temperature and the sensation of your hands on my crotch.
I swear there is a garden chest
I know i can feel you blooming
I will trace the roots across your flesh, and i cannot stop licking my lips.