eve

03 May, 2025

saw a garden where she was
every flower turns to face her
sun folds beams down like silk sheets

when she bites the apple
the juice sticks to her skin
she hands me my glass
that sticks to me, too

maybe breathing is the most important exercise
and maybe breath is not as strong as alley winds
and maybe we aren't city buildings
and maybe we aren't bricks embedded in pavement

I thought that feeling was in my head
but she sits in my chest, throat
and leans on my back