I love
the sound of the ocean
when you brush through
your short hair.

I love
the murky peridot
balls sitting beneath
your blackened eyelids.

I love
the gray things,
the soft things,
that fuzz up my image
of him.

I love
the dusk
and how it outlines
your coming.

I love
the cold ice
in your sunflower glass
that's long past melting.

I love
the spirit's breath
that keeps every time
you go.

I love
the subtle
confusion
wrought by
your evening curves.

I love
you
and your casual likeness
and how

you have accepted me.