in the morning i thrill towards the sunrise, the pale plate of the lifting sun across a horizon where you and i have walked. the pink of your mouth, the bright of your skin, the retreating darkness of your eyes as they open to mine, there is nothing here that does not remind me of you. the birds that race across the horizon call your laughter back to me, trill the pert melody of my heartbeat when your hands are on my face. when, finally, i must bow my head and walk into my day, it is with you applied to my parched soul, memories burnishing my desert skin, the taste of you strung across me tip to tip.