Writing about you
is like adding cinnamon to my food

it seems to happen
whether I plan to or not

like sleepy mornings with cold feet and warm bowls
of your smile,
like sweetness and spice with just a hint
of the smell of your sweater,
like dessert with a dusting
of the lines around your eyes
and your mouth

(or maybe
I just really like the taste of you
on my tongue)