you said

    we lost our spark

over the phone so

i thought i’d surprise

you here.

i waited fifty

minutes at the

terminal for

you.

that may not seem

like long but

i’ve already

waited

a lifetime.

your lips curl into a smile and

it smells like the sun. when you

speak your words taste like licorice.

our hands intertwine and your 

fingertips become the stars

leading me in the dark. your

purity is contagious leaving 

traces of you behind everywhere

you are. there are things i don't

say things i can't. but you look at 

me and you know. your eyes tear

into me taking what's yours and what isn't.

(i don't mind i'm all yours anyway.)

so i sit across from you and let you

take what you want. your smile

lighting me on fire. your words

leaving a lingering taste and i 

realize: i never liked licorice until

i tasted your lips.

i came from       the ocean

and       the ocean       is where we

return when life on earth

becomes a burden.

my mother returned to

the water       when i was young,

i think i was her burden. i

sent postcards twice a day,

i wanted to hear her voice

bubble through the waves

to me. i addressed them to

the sea           hoping

they would drift to her and

land gently on her lap.

they were always gone in

the morning. i found them

years later in a closet- top

shelf- after my father

swam away.