I spent a summer worrying about the cause and effect
of your upcoming 6 month Tour.
Worrying myself over the image of your body lying
in a coffin instead of in the space in my bed beside me.

The taste of your gunmetal lips quickly became the
favorite flavor of my summer,
and I found myself thinking more about the ways in which
I would miss the shape of your mouth and the dip
in your top lip
than I did savoring the taste of your kiss
and the feel of your cupid bow.