(A shift within your wind, a tangle in your hair)
If we love each other (shyly), and do what clouds do silently, or watch as flowers resemble beauty far less than our breathing.
We can play scrabble with spaghetti letters and sew love notes in between the stems of daisy chains.
We’ll half smoke our cigarettes, and leave them out to burn the night.
I'll wear my dress so I can wear my heart on my sleeve (shyly, shyly), you know that place between wake and sleep…meet me…
This is my breath in your lungs.
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