Your hand is a land mine,
resting with reluctance by my side on a Sunday morning,
mirroring my own,
my lonely atom bomb,
burning to crash and create chaos,
but resisting as we, two room mates,
two best friends,
two soul sisters sit in silence.
innocent and inwards with our emotions.
I never think it out loud,
or even too loudly in my head,
but you are the love of my life,
and one day,
we’ll explode these benches,
our hearts soaring through searing skies,
Wistful wild flower,
my morning sun and moon light,
let me lead you to the charms of life,
a heaven among mortals,
a home for wayward, wonderful girls.
Let us love among the angels,
find a fantasy made for two,
just one night where we are divine,
one last chance to live by our own design.
White orchids wait on the windowsill,
pleasing, pretty poppies spring from the garden below,
sunflowers stretching to the sapphire sky,
foxgloves finding the sunlight as your arms wrap around my waist like sweet, summer vines.
Our love is blooming all around us.
You have a reputation,
fierce and formidable,
my winter wind,
whipping up trouble.
You become a breeze,
so soft against my scorching soul,
so cold with all you know,
but biting against my fingertips,
almost a butterfly kiss,
a sweet secret,
because I am your lover.
It was just past two,
blue stars and a moody moon met outside,
exchanging kisses in the quiet sky,
and you awoke in my embrace,
face to face with the girl who simply could not sleep.
Sparks flew, just past two,
chemistry, biology and literature lay between soft sheets,
I sighed sonnets,
our passion was an atom bomb,
and you couldn’t resist the lure of the button.