II.

II.

I have already memorized

the slant of your nose

and that single freckle that sits off to the side

the one you swear doesn't exist but

I know it's there, the very same

shade as your eyes.


I still have to think to remember

the outline of your lips

as I trace them with my own

and how the tip of your tongue tastes always like summer

fumbling nervousness and lingering vanilla which

is inexplicably you.


I am working on learning

the curve of your neck

the number of spaces between your ribs

where your erratic-beating heart is nestled

and the sound of your sharp intake of breath you give as I

find your hips.