c'est bon

 like that your language is not my first,

because when you say that

you want to take me,

again,

i certainly wouldn’t say no.

i didn’t come to this city

to break my body,

and i don’t believe

that you’re going to fix it,

but it sometimes feels healed

while tethered with yours.

you are not like any

that i’ve known,

you are cream against a washed out palette,

the tennis montage

in a romantic comedy,

you are velvet on my skin,

a wave under a tangerine sky.

you are warm breath.

and you keep space,

yet, you always bring me 

so close.

you held my pressure points

and kissed my spine,

you squeezed my hand

as though you wanted to ring me out,

from the things i didn’t need.

in the dark, my face can’t flush,

but i don’t think you would’ve wanted it to.

the first time i met you,

you told me i deserved it

in the most tender way 

it’s been spoken,

and even though your eyes were still

moons,

while the sun was coming up,

i still think you meant it.

tu m’a dit que tu voulais un hippocampe,

et je t’aime pour cela