flowers in your hair

i love the way your name tastes in my mouth

like cointreau and rosé, like peaches and cotton candy.

 

i love the way it trips over the tip of my tongue, i can’t say it too loud

but i can whisper it back to you in the darkness of your room.

 

the privilege to love so openly, 

to hold your hand and kiss your lips and feel your breath when people have their eyes on us,

something i could only dream of.

 

but the flowers i braid into your hair as we lie here alone show the world the lingering effects of your heart connecting to my own

 

long after we’re gray and old,

and the only thing left of our love is the walls of your house that we hid ourselves away in,

these flowers that fall from my fingers into your silklike tresses will immortalize us

 

poets will speak of a love like ours.

 

the elegant feelings, the effervescent rush of emotion

that one feels from roses and tea and white linen sheets,

is our love reaching out to the world

 

a man carrying a bouquet through the rain for his lover, 

a stone sculpture of connected lips,

the waves kissing the shore and the wind hugging the trees,

our love is everlasting,

encased in a glass box by mother nature herself.