The winter city breathed,
and I was nervous in the evening
while you waited for me,

I drank your voice slowly,
I tried to sip you silently,
so that I could hear all you had to say with all of my senses,

You sound like bread and butter and strawberry jam,
and look like calm water in the early morning
like I don’t know about the oceans you protect,
and I feel like a fisherman
fishing for some sort of heart shape in the vastness of your sea,
and I want to sit on the shore all the time,
or at the pier,
somewhere where the sadness and silence are equally soft,
where the silence might be kissed away from you
and the sadness melt like candle wax,
warm and willing