I pressed my palms

against my eyes

so hard

I watched Willy Wonka pixels

dance in small squares

blue orange and white

I have no Idea who you call at night. I never asked for your cell number. Its those wild blues. The grey blue, its that laugh. I sat there with a smoke in my mouth. A thousand drags, a thousand draws on life looking at your freckles. I wondered how you looked before the sun came before you were kissed with so much beauty.

I woke like any other morning and looked around me, I looked at the sun through the window, unsure of how late it really was but when I turned I saw your back and each drop of light that ever touched you. I looked over you like a field. How long would it take to get across you? Each freckle a blade of grass. I wondered when first light had touched your back. I was sucked in. The scent of your hair made me breathe deeper. A thousand freckles unsure of where to begin.

The next time I hooked my finger on your jeans, the tip touching your hip bone. Like citrus you said to me and I thought of lemons. I was sure I smelled and tasted of the earth. I was sure I was low tide. But you said no you taste like citrus.

Cookies and giggles we laugh within our eyes. Your sneakers scuffing my shoes. I can still feel your hip bones and the way your breath was drawn as we touched cotton to cotton.

How you said we had gone to far. I agreed and you slept better. You slept better than you had so many nights before. But I lingered in the late night waiting on the chirps of birds because I could not contain myself. Wondering why  I wanted to write love letter again when I never even asked for your number.