Poetry

Love Drought

I really like the way you speak.

Your lips have a way of moving over words ritualistically and that excites me.

I listen to your music when I miss you.

Bumping Summer Bunk under a Strawberry Moon, Soundcloud held the soundtrack to our summer love, summer lust, summer story, whatever you want to call it.

You blew my mind, I blew your high, but you kept texting back and I kept trying to make time out of thin air for you.

Kept finding pieces of you in every track on Musiq Soulchild’s Aijuswannasang.

Was compelled to build Sandcastles when the ache for you became too much to bear.

Life kept giving me lemons, then sent you as sugar-water, honey.

Life gave us lemons and we became lemonade, like magic.

When I write about you, it’s just word vomit because you scramble my brain, I wonder how, or if you like your eggs.

I pray we’re not over easy.

I melt under your grill, you Snap a picture, I say “cheese”, even though I don’t like it.

Don’t they call doing things you don’t like for the sake of someone you love compromise?

Maybe that’s why you listen when I speak because you know I appreciate the effort.

You something else.

A code I can’t crack.

And I love it.

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