Blue Snoopy mugs and dark black coffee. You smile and I sip. I fling windows open to clean the inside air. It is negative degrees outside but in my bed we wake up sweaty. Bananas and pomegranate green tea, we read late into the night. Not unusually, I am alternating between euphoria and crises every few hours; the weight of existence is immeasurable. You explain the biology of monkeys and how we choose who our children become. I wonder about who I have become. We lay on the pink and the blue rugs and your body lowers slowly onto mine. You say you want a life centered around this; I say I agree. My head is too full of you to say anything more. I rub lavender and chamomile oil over my chest. I think of it when I walk outside and wonder if I am as much a part of the earth as I want to be. You kiss my neck from behind and bring me back. I am always coming and going.
I love you tenderly. In the morning your peaceful complexion soft and your earth-brown hair tousled against baby pink pillowcase. My nose pressed against your cheek, I try to breathe you in (inhale the smell of sleep) (longing) with you I can focus in on controlling my pulse (1...2...1...2…) The arches of your collarbones make me ache your entire self singing of promise.
Stand outside put your hands in front of you catch the snowflakes in your mittens bittersweet like lemon green tea I take these pieces of living and slip them under my tongue like candies. I **** on them throughout the day and remain sane thanks to the rays of sun twirling across my dashboard and the wind squeezing my fingertips till they are blue.
you smell sweaty (and honeyed, like the Burt’s Bees soap you just started using) I rest my nose in the crook of your neck and shoulder. I should like to stay here while you do physics (watching you write is mesmerizing) but it is 1 AM and my eyes hurt. I will wake up eager at 3 AM when you stumble into bed; pull you close and mumble that I love you because I do. (the sweetest procrastinator)
swimming behind porcelain eyes (I have always hated porcelain) you are hard like ice a cold arrangement of confusion permeating the things you touch like poison (ivy) I am helpless when it comes to this an inside out a promise clawing for something (but what is it)