That Summer

That Summer

They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can’t stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch. I say that’s a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it.
– C. Joybell C.

Whenever I play that song, I can taste our summer on the tip of my tongue.
Like sungrown nectar, it ripples sweetness across the roof of my mouth.
It is no longer a distant memory, but one that loops like the 90 passing suns
in front of my film reel lashes.
I see porch light stars and know the beauty in salt and sweat on skin
under crescent moons.
Letting it burrow into your marrow and giving yourself wholly to another until
our veins run with melted colors of vibrancy and zealous infernos.
I smell the incense burn into the wrinkles of my cotton tank top and fade into
midnight eyes, knowing that 3 a.m. marks the time you stir each night to light
those wicks that feed us smoke and leave my senses howling.
I am one with the knotted branches in my stomach – the twists and dances that
they do only to birth such ardent wildflowers.
Every time the bass echoes, I recall how every nerve in my body stood erect
like burning blue flames.
And the butterflies, much like my love for you, have yet to fly away.

– Samantha Prasad

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