unkempt autumn.

Yes, you’re beautiful,
with your eyes like Easter morning,
ponytail of unkempt autumn,
breath of forestry and smoke,
and palms of rugged oak.

I like to tuck your hair,
when it falls forward,
and get lost in the curls,
which cascade from your collar bones,
to the arch near your groin.

I even like the goosebumps,
which radiate from your calluses,
across the swell of my hips,
and inner thighs;
rough like the life you’ve survived.

I like curling your mouth,
as you’re second-guessing me,
the lift in your brow,
when you try to see what I see.
Yes, you’re beautiful.


19 thoughts on “unkempt autumn.

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