he looks so cool all the time
knuckles and cheeks always flushed rose
the way he focuses
so sharp
yet gentle
like stroking one's cheek with the flat side of a butter knife
the way his voice sounds like thunder
but his laugh sounds like spring rain
so many inexplicable contradictions
the way i know he has
freckles in the shape of a
lopsided pancake moon
on the back part of his shoulder
the way
the way he has soft golden hair on the back of his neck
that the razor's too lazy to catch
he knows the words to every queen song and
every goo goo dolls song
the way he's just a half step offtune unless the song is on blaring
the way it feels when he twists the piece
of my hair
that never fits into place
the way he slaps the steering wheel
2 seconds before
the chorus of notbroken comes on
he says, "you have got to get out of this town"
he leans back
flushed knuckles like dawn, rose gold, peach jungle growing on his sweet skin.
YOU ARE READING
homeland burning
Poetryhear your homeland calling as it burns to ash. 2017, wiildflowerhoney.
