we used to dye our tongues on purpose using kool-aid and i stood in the sprinklers with the grass already so muddy it was starting to do that thing where your lawn is now quicksand
i think i want to kiss you because you remind me of smoothing out the chalk drawing with gentle fingers. of anthills and feeding birds our leftover lettuce. of getting covered in briars while we picked blueberries from the backyard bush. i think i want to kiss you because it's a bad idea, and i think i want to kiss you because of how water grips the side of a pitcher of iced tea.
you said your life was a toddler's art piece, with paint splatted on your floor, in your mouth, in your hair. i was delighted by that.
i loved the idea of leaving color everywhere.













