I run my fingers through the tall grass

like I have through lovers' hair before.

I've heard of places where the grass is greener on the other side,

but here  

where the sunrise is the blush on your cheeks made of clouds  

the grass is pink.

 

The wind blows,

bringing you around me.

My flesh pulsing but not feeling.

 

Clocks, though I pay them no attention,

add time between now and then.

I’ll fill it with new thoughts, 

and you’ll get pushed to where I'll think I've forgotten you. 

In even more intimate parts of my brain.

 

You might come back to me in a dream one time,

as the crest of a wave about to crash on the shore.

I’ll wake up my pupils dilated.

I read one time that means I love you.

​

- A