I love

the sound of the ocean

when you brush through

your short hair.



I love

the murky peridot

***** sitting beneath

your blackened eyelids.



I love

the gray things,

the soft things,

that fuzz up my image

of him.



I love

the dusk

and how it outlines

your coming.



I love

the cold ice

in your sunflower glass

that's long past melting.



I love

the spirit's breath

that keeps every time

you go.



I love

the subtle

confusion

wrought by

your evening curves.



I love

you

and your casual likeness

and how





you have accepted me.