It’s been almost a year from your crooked grin and knobby knees, the hollow in the chest that ran in your family. I can still remember every inch, close my eyes and travel the soft peaks and golden valleys, a foreign country made familiar. Your voice is the rhyme that’s stuck in my head, the…

Grasping, lust blushed palms, smoky, perfumed hair, and lips that gleam and flash in the pinot noir half light. Sweat smeared eyes, midnight still clinging to our fingertips, the comfort in unfamiliar sheets. Outside, the dawn cuts taut star strings one by one. We awake, and make our introductions.