in march, all things new

soft sweet kisses on rosebud lips and pink-stained cheeks with a dusting of freckles from too long in the sunlight are not enough to make me fall in love but they have always been enough to make me consider it. in the summer my heart melts like a soft serve ice cream, dripping sweet sugar across your hands where you hold it, cautious and light as though you are afraid you will break me. the salt sea air is a whisper across cheeks, burning and chapping raw the face i want to wake up beside every morning until i can memorize every laugh line. i blink in the morning and it still feels like dreaming to have you here. in february i will hold this warmth in my heart a burning sear on my skin something akin to the sunburn we scorched onto our legs the year we were seventeen and you were afraid to touch me. i will hold this warmth to remind myself better days have been and will come again each season, just as the sun steadies itself and the world turns on the same axis in front, a planetary pirouette we perform through. in march all things new will bloom and i turn my face toward you as a daffodil reaches up for the sun thinking though you are far from me now your warmth never ceases to touch me and i will spend my whole life turning myself to follow you.