i miss the dog-days of summer, the air static and full of noise. i miss the lightening that makes my heart skip a beat and the sweat that forms on my brow and down the rivets of my spine as i laid with you in your bed. i miss cooling the hot pads of my feet in the tap water of your kitchen sink and when you’d lean in for a kiss i could smell the salt on your skin before tasting it on my tongue. i miss tank tops, cotton dresses, and the hum of ceiling fans with the cicadas buzzing into their crescendos as the breeze slowly shifts the heaviness of the air from one corner of the room to another. we’d find sanctuary in lake michigan and solace in burying our bare feet between the bristles of ryegrass in the park. i miss the sizzle and pop of rain pounding the blistering asphalt and fingers and lips sticky from melted ice cream cones.

1 march, 2013