I should have said nothing. I’m sorry.

Your movements wanted to belong.
But inside you cringed when I spoke like that.
I did not know then that you loved only the thought.  

For me, there was strength in a few thrown leaves.
Like playful snow to your face.
I took the bus home
With signs already drawn in my eyes.

After many blanket nights
Together in fountain water,
You spoke to me of emptiness.
I took it as mine—I’m sorry—and replied
I am like you.

I will no longer see you.

But I summon your skin easily.
I lay you beside me, and with grazing hands
try again to show you all of what my fields
look like, in the setting of my sun.

I imagine the feelings under your skin.
I make them how I need, this time.

You are walking my fields with me
And I am silent.

The sea reeds brush against the gentleness of your legs.
There is a lightness in your chest.
And your summer dress rests like fallen mist,
so peacefully on your glow.