The last snow storm,
at the cusp of spring that catches you unprepared.
I melt in the blinding springtide,
the warmth of your hands,
Because things can be left unsaid.
Because my cheeks flush when you say my name out loud,
or you say I’m lovely to look at.
Because I can’t help but smile when you hold my hand in yours,
or when we’re alone in beautiful places.
Because I always wish to embolden, and bring color to your face.
Because I undo buttons to see your hungry grin,
or because sighs escape parted lips
as your breath travels my skin in the darkness, or in the sunlight.
Because my chest hurts when you leave me behind.