Lavender:
fitful
fragrant,
when you walk through the door.
Tiny tendrils that bloom from the beads of sweat on your skin
that tip and turn and
float across the room,
curling themselves around my ankles,
my thighs,
my collarbones,
finding home,
finally,
in my body's identical delicate space:
and I’m lilac,
violet,
I’m orchid and maroon.
My vision is filtered,
starry and
celestial.
I want more.
I want mauve.
And I want you,
my constant reminder to
color outside the lines.