peaches

The way she laughs is Aphrodite, reincarnated beauty. Her cheekbones rise and fall in sync with her chest. Delicate features, aging, but fair forever, I’ll love her as long as I am able to breathe. She tells me to speak, and I feel the words tumble, slowly, softly, from the roof of my mouth down to the tip of my tongue, incoherent to most, but she nods, because she understands. She smiles and I do too, because she brings me June in December, and melts the snow, leaving me warm in my bones. She loved me when I was wandering, lost in a maze, of unexplored thoughts, and she gave me a hand to hold, to make me feel safe, but never steered me one way or another to fulfill her own agenda, as others did, only kept me warm, requesting nothing as payment, only kind eyes, and early morning bed head. Now that I am older, now that I am no longer wandering so much, now that I have somewhat found what I have been looking for, she stays with me just the same, watching over me, like smoky breath in winter, giving me guidance when I fall. She tells me stories, transporting me to eras forgotten and memories unspoken, and I can hear her childhood self saving me from falling off a skyscraper, her favorite word. She likes travel, maps, geography, cultures. She is everyone and no one at the same time, but most importantly, she is someone for whom my soul beams and with whom it dances. I want to tell her how grateful I am, but when I do, I never have the words. They leave my mouth unfinished, unrefined, but still she shows me her summer smile.