i am a terrible poet. the words i tied together in attempt to annunciate the way your kisses felt along the soft of my cheeks were mediocre and just barely enough. just barely. there weren't enough ways that i could describe the mouthful of stars that spilled at the seams of my lips as you gently traced them with warm finger tips. mm, your finger tips. your finger tips felt like a personal extension from god himself as they dusted the empty jars i left untouched in the forgotten spaces of me. you held them tightly and filled them to the top with a breathful of morning secrets and hidden places to meet. i found you. i found you and allowed the words to slip through my small hands as you kissed my palms gently and sweetly and folded them into your own to keep for just a little bit. ( i could stay here) i could lay underneath your tired smiles and messy hair until stars realigned themselves and directed me to you all over again. ( i could stay here) i could tangle in-between your pale sheets and make up all the words that effortlessly translate the way i melted and simmered at the sheer thought of waking up and knowing you again. i could illustrate all of the galaxies you whispered onto the trail of my back with colors and warmth i never knew and turn them into poorly strung together, black and white strings of thought. you were my favorite secret and the cause of all of my writer’s block.
(i could stay here)
i’ve lived in florida my entire life and have spent more days than i can count under the sun and in the wake of rays that always burned, but i’ve never felt more warmth than lying underneath your expired thoughts and eclipsing eyes as the moon seeped through your broken window blinds. i forgot what it was like to breathe until you took my face sweetly and sincerely and kissed me. the paragraphs and ellipses that perforated my parenthetical sighs of relief stained the corners of my mouth and lingered long enough for me to remember the after taste of your recycled sunshine as you left me.
i am a terrible poet, but a better kept secret it seems.