[they say a picture’s worth 1,000 words, but who ever stops to count the words you’re worth?]

i sometimes see you through the curtain of day as you slide into the duskened sky on your quiet way into tomorrow and i try to paint you with the words i’ve been saving since i was a little girl – shining, sparkling things of sunlight and breathlessness that i knew one day i’d be able to attach to something more than just the insides of shoe boxes and the wings of my flutter soul. you are not [yet] mine and if you knew me even at all, you’d think twice about the way you trample in with dirty feet and flip-flop-flip all over the newness of my summer heart.
so talk me up, and we can trace the freckles on each other’s shoulders with the thinnest tips of fingernails and marvel at the way june can slide beneath our skin and turn us golden from the inside-out, bronzed and bewildered into believing the world just might make sense after all. our together-smiles in new photographs are pearly-perfect and we glow too brilliantly for imitation, and when i hang us on my dandelion wall and try to figure out our 1,000 words i’m sunshine-dumbstruck with the reality of how dizzily our orbits align in this just-june and as your eyes stare steadily back into mine the only thing i can wrap my hazy head around is blue.