Regarding the Girl I Could Have Loved
You inched your fingers like hungry wolves valleys of fabric too wide for our skins, but I always wondered what the sweat would feel like between our hands, sweet, maybe, like a mountain full of marigolds just as messy as your hair in August and I didn’t tell anyone what it smelled like while you slept on me you breathed slow, Mama would call you a cloud pusher gentle air, moving south down my body but you were guilty as sin, opal eyed and far away and I held your ghost in spring evenings, but never you.
Would you leave soft kisses on my spine? I imagined you counting freckles like pushpins sweet lips driving their sting into my bones I was your hive, honeybee, lovesick home braiding asters and clover and I wanted those saccharine hips inside of the foxglove grove between our bodies, growing longer as the spring days that kept me craving nectar verboten as Eve . but they say nothing tastes as saporous as sin and sometimes I can still feel silk in your candied  pallid skin. Â
