I think of you as I think of the sun:
In the summer,
you are plastered to my skin.
(I cannot shake you)
The winter is when you’re gone,
but the winter is when I can
swallow the revitalizing air
without having it stolen from my lips.
(The cold settles in my stomach
and makes me ravenous)
Autumn.
You peek through the leaves
and cast a glow on the torn gray roads.
(You’ll follow me to a world where the paths
are all paved in jumbled red brick, won’t you?)
Then there’s Spring.
I know you’re there,
behind the clouds and rain,
but you won’t glance at me
for longer than a flower blooms.
(And I crave you – I need you)
Throughout it all,
you rise and fall
with dedicated consistency;
in exchange,
I’ll wait for you
until there is nothing,
not even dark.