It is watery, and yet so much like honey,
the height gained rivaling mountains
but peaches frame you –

something more smooth than a kiss,
saliva pinked with blood, drooling down
one chin or tongue, I have touched

close, but not quite smeared with
my fingerprints, not even a wrinkle or
particle of body’s flaking dust,

just a sphere of constant traffic,
you meet the veiny shapes when all
else blackens, the chime of hearts I know

one I have handed to you, chirping
beating with no highlights of an earth
just keeping brunette, blonde baby blues.