You are the light that lingers
at dusk, pink skies blending
into the silhouettes of
ancient willow
trees

You are the taste of honey
in the morning, sweetly
kissing my lips, extracting
my dreams

You are the simple life
of wine and whispers ,
books read under a canvas
of leaves

You are the similes and metaphors
that make my own face
wrinkle and
cringe

The words that stick to my
teeth, and pull

You are me and,
sometimes,
I am you