You tasted like beer every time you kissed me. The cheap kind, because that’s all we could afford. “I’m going to make you my wife one day.” It’s so easy to make promises of forever when you are so young. But I believed every word, listening to the waves crash in the darkness; a satiation I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. You were terrible for me, but I recall you so beautifully.
The way you kiss me. God, I have not been kissed like that in a long time. I had almost forgotten all about romance. The rosy cheeks and swollen lips and star spangled eyes. How our tongues are made of honey and our lovemaking can be found among hidden gemstones and orbiting planets. Undiscovered galaxies and unexplained footprints on the moon.
They look at me unknowingly. A creature of a mythical past. Hair of cinnamon sprinkles and fins of urban legend scales. Windmills of honey and grim reaper tales. I flip over sea shells and breathe with aquamarine lungs. Scarlet eyes and white lights. Magic combs and unknown explorers. They crave curiosity, but fear the unexpected.
Stunned by rabid wolves and deafening howls that even the purple moon succumbs to a crescent. Frosted trees once enchanted by glistening flakes from heaven are now withering into wiry branches that cascade over opaline ground. The crunch of burning and bountiful leaves. Overgrown gardens of Eden and overcrowded closets to Narnia. Ripped t-shirt pockets and black hole hangers.