there are always freckles across the bridge of your nose, i wait for the dimple in your left cheek to appear. i promise i will not take so long, this time.

i wax full for you, a lunacy all my own: distemper that is immediate, flourishing, rose-colored and thick with the many lives light lives while it travels to your eyes. i circle you, pulling on you, with gravity for hope.

there are always flecks of green and gold in the dark of your eyes, there is always one loose curl along your jaw. for you i return, and return, and return.