Frost Pink

I pull the layer of ice
away, like a ribbon,
soft enough to have
framed my face

once. Pale pink
plucked from my
lips; a morning
spent in mourning
for the dark

where in simplicity
I sample the idea
of you.

Wine, so clear
it shines.

And you can taste it,
take it, remember
it strong enough
to prevent the rain

from hardening
into ice.

Play my meaning like
an instrument until
my words dance (tongue-
tangled-tango‘s) into
fraises and crazes that I
do not

yet understand.

Yet, age is a muscle
flexing,

forearm.

Pink politeness, a glimpse
of skin-flesh, freckled,
goose-bumped, thick
with hair - just seconds
away from touching mine,

or so it seems.

Though I wait for you,
embrace, whisper:

lover!

Love me. Not her.

Prick my skin with hot
pink; pull away the
reminder, prevent the
shell from cracking,

prevent. me.

But the perishable
light lingers; a kiss,
smile, eye contact,
retract,

not the same.

Fill my day with heat,
and troublemaking

a lie: not undertaking
all my thoughts of you.