The sun is setting on a hot day, he hides coyly behind tall sycamores, his reflection playing on the undersides of trees on the riverbank. His warm breath is the breeze that kisses my cheek. The river carries me on, over pebbles and rocks below the glassy surface. Dragonflies dart around, flying gems that glisten in the sun. The heron, with diligent patience, hides seamlessly in the trees awaiting his next meal. He takes off when I get near, his frame is much larger in flight. The sweetness of honeysuckle is thick in this warm air. The trees on the riverbank are laden and dripping of the sweet flowers. As I gently glide through the water, the waves lap against my boat, almost making the sound of kisses. This is my river time. All these beautiful things, I love. There is passion in Nature, it is in birdsong and in the breeze. It is in the river as it moves along and the swaying of the trees. This is where I breathe.

When you take my hand like you do
And touch my leg while you drive

When you play new music you know I'd like
And carry that smug smile when I admit to liking it

When you want to hear how my day was
And then wish me sweet dreams later

When you take me to bed
And put your arm under my pillow

When you look at me with those sweet blues
And move my hair from my face

When you kiss me on the neck behind my ear
And trace my collarbone with your finger

When you spoon me
And hold me tight

When you try so hard to be what you weren't
And do so much better at it

I hate you
I hate myself

**** you,
I should never have told you

What you should have done
And what you did.

Against the rules
Here I am

**** you,
I love you

But I won't
I won't
I won't

Be yours.
Again.