i won't tell you anymore.
these quiet little things
folds of your neck
when you turn away
tap-tap-tap of your fingers
on my knee
the way your left eye
seemed to peer out
half closed
like an awakened animal
unsure
slowly remembering
how to hunt
i felt such a shot
in my heart
i thought must be love.
but weren't we just
running up the stairs
laughing at the dog chasing us naked?
i think i laughed so hard
wondering if he wanted to bite my
juicy brown cheeks
dinner simmering
overdone now, i suppose
turmeric stained hands
bundles of nerves
punching my insides
is this what a fetus feels like?
i don't think i'll ever know.
i blend all together
to paint who you were
with me
nobody's perfect
but i think we did okay
cowboy boots
my slinky purple dress
the night we first met.
sneaking glances
climbing into your truck
so shy.
open windows
sea salt air
i can feel you looking at me.
driving to the cabin
you made a fire
a symbol of stuttering sentences
ill placed sentiments
go ahead, burn me to dust
kiss me like you love me,
because tomorrow
i won't tell you any more
quiet little things.