I love you in the way the sun kisses the edges of the
clouds in the morning. The way the steam rises from my coffee
and curls at the end of my nose. The way my hair will split in
two, sometimes three ways at the ends. With hopes that,
in just one of these ways, it is a language you understand.
A whisper that tickles the hairs
on the back of your neck.



“What five things would you put into a pentagram to summon me?”

“A sunflower, a tie-dye sock, a ball of cat hair, a dictionary, and a hair clip.”

“A sunflower? Why a sunflower?”

“Because everything about you makes me think of a sunflower, you need to wear yellow more often. We need to get you a yellow sun dress.”

What’s the matter, blue eyes?

Bright blue eyes
Peering from under the sheets
At the blinding window
Filled with sunlight
Sparkling in their reflection
On the water
Reflecting again
In the midnight hour
To illuminate
The next bright circle
They are complete
They are opposite
They are whole