Your apricot hair is speckled
in warm glassy tears,
but how many of them were sprinkled tonight,
and how many in previous years?

I don't know you, apricot girl,
but I know that those bulbs in your eyes
haven't blossomed this summer
and they've been seeding for a while.

Your glittering eyes can hold so many stories
like a Christmas tree with homemade lights,
and the warm shadows under your eyelids
hold tales of icy sleepless nights.

Tell me what it is that you want to hear,
persistent apricot girl?
I want to tell you just one thing,
that every dusky oyster
secretes a blushing pearl.