The bench by the white lilacs, at the bottom of the garden where shade and sun sit together.

If we were to sit, by the white lilacs

And if I were to smell their summer heavy scent

as it painted your skin and shined in your hair,

If we were to rise, on smoke of the earth

our toes in the soil, fingers in the grass and our eyes in the white-silver clouds,

If we were to sit with sunlight patterns on our bodies,

Coils and strands of burning solar flares on the inside of our eyelids,

If we were to be alone, with birdsong and leaf rustle and our breath

loud-quiet in the air,

I know I would not stop, from reaching out to touch your cold, burning white skin,

Your pale, cracked lips

If we were to be alone, but together

I know I would want to breathe in the lilac and smoke that would cling to your birch silver hair

Till only our souls were left, covered in petals and warmed steaming and red by the sun.

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4 thoughts on “The bench by the white lilacs, at the bottom of the garden where shade and sun sit together.

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