Snowing outside,
and in.

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

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

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

Like we were the first
to ever fall in love.

At times,
I desperately tried to forget you,
now, I never want to unsee you again—
I’ve only just begun to learn your rhythms.

-

I won’t share you,
won’t unlearn you
under the Mexico sun,
because you’ve learned more of me
than anyone here—