Sun-blanketed sheets,
a crumpled map of us,
our bodies
a single braid
beneath.

Yesterday’s coffee
- cold -
but still enough.

Dust waltzing
in the slanted light,
each one
a tiny planet
taking flight.

Your breath,
a slow rhythm
on my skin,
quieting all within.

No need for words,
no need to see—
just this
slow
breathing
symphony.

The morning melts
like sugar
into first light's
pour.

Your touch
lingers
like
honey,
And your breath
plays me
like your favorite
song.

Behind your eyes
silence,
caught in glass.

No need for words,
no need to see—
just this
slow
breathing
symphony.

stamps today.
One for you,
one for me—
and I crossed
my fingers
for clear skies.

The river knows what we were,
cradling our summers.

I remember you, girl by the river—
fifteen,
sun-warmed,
eternal.
My ghost in summer.

You laughed, and the river paused…
Barefoot,
dancing,
your brown skin
honeyed in the sun.

All the words I could have said
the river
swallowed
whole.

Sometimes—
when I close my eyes—
I hear the songs we used to know...

You, oceaning the shallows;
Me, a shell
on a distant shore.