The rain makes your veins look like dark black bra straps underneath a veil of Topshop sale items- the bangles were bought elsewhere. Though it's not their size that worry me, it's what look lives within your eyes every time you run a finger up your arm and back down your arm again; the charm in your slightly curling autumn leafed smile curls a little more, turning smooth lakeside skin into Nile-esturay wrinkles that say save me Tim.
Your red delta cheeks pulsate in the late afternoon sun coming in on a diagonal through the newly installed, doesn't quite close properly, velux window; you ran through fields only to end up teary eyed in the kitchen doorway threshold.
But here, here is where your riverΒ meets my sea, and turbulent tides swell up to ferry us away to new coastline continents: forget we ever swimmed and swam, poured sand from our shoes, held hands and ran, and forget we held hips on train station steps, shared lips, left and then hid.
*When you see this you'll know it's an apology
From, coffeeshoppoems.com. Visit for more poetry from around the world.