Letters To My Lover

To my love,
I will wait for you under the apple tree
in the dusk of twilight, when all the garden
will be sweet with the heady dew of evening
and the thrill of unspoken promises. There,
we will drink honeyed wine spilled
from my lips in the form of all the words I keep
in secret. They swirl inside me like new wine
flowing through my veins—
at once filling me with euphoria and a
trembling sort of heaviness. Let us frolic
in the garden, there,
like young gazelles leaping upon the hills
at the first blush of spring. Let us be
love-drunk through all the sultry hours
of the night,
for I know that all too soon,
the jealous dawn will rip you from my arms.
To my love, I will wait in breathless
anticipation for the dusk to make
its way to me once more.

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Untamed

You glance my way and

a wild stampede of heartbeats

escapes from within the cage

of my ribs. I cannot seem

to corral my thoughts, they ride

freely upon the rushing horde—

do I hold your gaze or look away?

You laugh at something your

companion says, flashing straight

white teeth like the picket fence

around the garden in my

memories, where we picked sugar

snap peas during lazy summer

afternoons. I catch my breath

and look away, attempt to calm

the trembling of my limbs.