Remember the lemon grove and the
intensity with which you drained the pink from my tongue
and bathed my body in your fingerprints.
Unlike underwhelmed faucets, there is no rhythm to what we are when even
our shadows can’t tell us apart; you belong to me.
The rocks will cry out when God demands praise and my hair will sprout a million new
ways to say something that sounds less threatening than, “I’d die for you”.
Before I knew you I could still fit through my bedroom window and tell my tears exactly where
to fall, now I sit pretty inside the Big Dipper resting my head in your lap our love is that necessary I’d never go back.
I want you so close that my
heart shakes inside your chest and
you don’t blink unless I say so, so.
Remember the shards of glass in my throat from every romance before you and the way they shone like diamonds.
Let’s be fools gold.
Let’s show them all.
-erica jeudy ©