- Hannah Flowers
from the passenger seat
you look just as lovely
even as the flames lick my house
and reflect a bright orange
in the brown of your eye
as the leaves on the trees
turned in autumn, so did
your sights turn lovingly
toward me.
your arms were vivid,
and with the right amount
of focus i can conjure them
but i cannot figure the proportion
correctly so i am left
with solely the imprint.
your answer lingers
even as i wake
that repetitive whisper
of “i think so.”
causing an infinite stirring
somewhere deep within me
for it was so simple, and
somehow so easy for you, and
does your conscious self
operate by the same rules?
thoughts were never enough
to justify inaction.
and how could i ever know
the flavor of chapstick you wear
if you stay stuck in wondering
how to even approach me, let alone
how to tuck my hair behind my ear,
how to tell me you thought of me?