what do you call that in-between romance,
a poem in the margins of a well-read story.
what would you say about those chaste kisses
that sweep the pine needles off our feet.
what do you call that moment of solace,
when we’re holding each other and that’s all i see.
when nothing else matters, beside your
beach waves of hair and pale blonde treating
the horizon with each shake of your head.
i am enraptured in the trap of your mind.