It was a month ago, I first tasted you.
Your eyes, dark like coffee.. and,
Fizzing like soda in a glass with each glance. Each helotry, you hold me.
Tight as if I were a wrench,
If I were your shiny silver, slim and,
Cold in your hand,
Squeezing, you warm me.
Only to place me at your chest,
Like a tiny doll,
With porcelain lips.
My eyes, grey like the sky outside your windows.
I can be your storm, your spring.
But, never your winter.