Peached was the sky;
Pink escaping from red
Ripple my chest did as with each beat,
the sun set further.
Each beat so profound,
that I could smell it.
It smelled like a rose before it bloomed,
not fresh but new, just as I knew I was not.
I had felt this before,
as our shoulders pressed like orange juice.
It was an intimate elbow,
my stomach tightened,
it was digesting the pulp of love.
Thick, and unclear it was adored
by those with a sweet tooth.
Hard to ignore.
I could’ve burst into passion,
my nerves were playing with gun powder.
Jaw gerned for a hit of lip.
Gripping.
Under the oak tree we were sipping,
my mind envisioned 1000 lifetimes in eternal bliss.
Not even ignited by a kiss,
just the rich;
toe curling, tea swirling
blend of our chemistry.
It felt like the tension of a library,
the impetus to break the tension.
I wanted to caress her as the turning of a page.
To continue reading,
she had a curved font.
So easy on the eyes as spring evening.
Clarity,
maybe that was her name.
Our pinkies locked,
every dip, every fall of her fingertips,
to this day I recall.
That I knew intimacy for 30 seconds.
Green Dharma 