—there is no love without friction
We wander the rainforest of wet skin.
Each twig—love’s unfinished sonnet—found by light.
My fingers press a slow vibrato on her violin.
Our sighs crescendo, swelling in adagio flight.
Hummingbirds hover over feral hair—the color of rosin
Shadows gather—drowned, quiet.
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 6:04 PM UTC
—there is no love without friction
We wander the rainforest of wet skin.
Each twig—love’s unfinished sonnet—found by light.
My fingers press a slow vibrato on her violin.
Our sighs crescendo, swelling in adagio flight.
Hummingbirds hover over feral hair—the color of rosin
Shadows gather—drowned, quiet.
