a perfect day

my hand is in your hair,
holding steady like it is
supposed ornate your skull
in the same way a halo glows
in the dark.

sometimes when I touch you,
I feel immobile. frozen
like winter, while under the
skin, everything moves quickly.

when winter comes, I forget
colors. except for the color
that shatters in your eyes
when you look up into the sky.

in moments, that sky can
wrap around my entire
body, like a thousand thread
count sheet. pure satin,
and cloudless.

my head in your hands
is nothing but a sphere
of clouds on the verge
of friction. your mouth,
flint sparks on my forehead.

a perfect rainstorm in my
chest is where you sit. where
the sun peeks through the
sky in more places that it doesn’t,
where the rain comes from
all of the sky in my mouth.

lightening from my tongue.


Categories: Poetry

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