Snowing outside,
and in.

We pause—
winter’s broken-skin,
desperate lovers, and dry heat,
“how do you want me?”

Our breathing slows,
and so does time.
You touch my face,
skin flaking,
falling snow—
but you only see the nature of it all.

It’s your left eye
ablaze,
the darkest known living sun,
iris in your amber, a swirling cosmos,
of imperfect edges
vibrating with foreverness,
telling the same story
I’d read in your brown hands;

As if we were the first two people
to ever fall in love,

finish inside.

-

I'll never unsee you—
or move to unlearn you,
under the Mexico sun.