Loving you
sounds like undulating waves
lapping the muddy banks
of Lake Ontario.

It looks like embers
glowing so deeply red their
essence is almost lost to the warm
dark of the night where we sit
draped in damp sweaters,
full of wood smoke,
finding comfort in each other
like long lost friends
who waited centuries to be
reborn in close proximity,
together again.

Forget cheap Valentines,
we’ll carve our love letters in
the rocky sands of Cape May;
And long after
the tide washes them away,
I promise to be your best friend,
Your sweater,
and your light
if you promise to kiss me
softly under bleeding sunsets
for the rest of my life,
so that I may never forget
what loving you tastes like.