memories

I always think of my memories like this:
without sound, just lips moving,
playing on repeat, like a silent film
with a few glitches.

i think it's you

i think about the curve of the back of your head
as it connects to your neck
delicate and strong, like bones.
i think of the kisses i've lain there
soft, like a virgin laying on flowers
or stubborn, like wind against a mountain,
think of how this has changed me
like wine unto water, coloring
deep red, burgundy, sweet and pungent.
i think it's you
who i want to hold close
and treasure in my arms, like the
warmest of suns.