morning breath
I always loved you best
in the mornings -
hair down, freckles askinder -
when your fingers curled over mine
without trapping me there,
when you didn't ask me to stay
but I wanted to
Before the world demanded us to be
who we were,
and we could be
anything -
Before we opened our eyes
and recognized our anxieties
in each others' faces -
In those moments,
with your breath promising nothing but another,
I think I must have told you I loved you
with the backs of my feet on your thigh
I think I must have told you how beautiful you were
when you were sure no one was watching
Posted Apr 23, 2018, 2:39 PM UTC
Ahh, this is love in its finest form. A flower blooming in its natural state. Your poem is simple yet your emotions deliver succinctly. I hope she was very pleased to receive this poem.