Honey Waves

I fell in love on Friday the 13th

with a boy whose hazel eyes —

of serpentine shores and honey waves —

so earthen and familiar,

tethered me down to sacred soil.

I felt something divine,

I was a witness to creation.

first kiss, a genesis.

like a first breath,

to our last exhale.

Your oak-stained skin reminds me

of sandy beaches along the pacific coast,

of coconuts and mangoneadas,

brandy and cherries,

tequila sunrises,

amber,

and love.

I lost it all when you said farewell.

I miss you the way Halley’s Comet misses the Earth.

the way the sun misses the moon during evening skies,

and twilights,

the way ocean tides reach toward the moon,

but thrown back to shores.

The way this seventh glass of whiskey spills across

the bar,

and misses my lips.

I love you.