Your skin during the nighttime
is my favorite smell
I’d like to fill all of my journals with it
But your name will
have to do
We became lovers during the nights,
getting drunk enough that it was no longer scary
to whisper our longing into each other’s ears
The morning sun would finally come
The beers we’d find had worn off
like our fears
I still romanticize your boots
and the way sunlight smiles at your olive skin
And I have a hard time
sleeping through rain,
wishing it to be your fingers
tapping against my
window instead
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