it’d be some sort of
languid phenomenon
without strategy
for you to notice
the way my body moves
through illumination,
pinpoint bits of light
skipping over my skin
like stones
that sink to the floorboards
in seasick
retro
fashion
our burgundy tinted lips
the way my eyes shift
to rally yours
into some effervescent
mind
twist,
some ever-living
love
fit
that could waltz
on through
the dawn