We met with the geese in the field
and the wooden boards beneath us,
I had the sense of difference.
You led me to different metaphors,
such as the instinct to kiss you
million times every day, every morning and evening,
until my mouth is red like raspberries
and I can’t sleep,
so I stay awake until I’m alone in the Spring;
relaxation that coincides
with burnt cookies in the oven
or a blistering wind,
a presentation of ambitious hills
that turn me inside out,
forcing me to look into clear glass,
a glutton to lay in bed,
or on the forest floor in the snow,
to watch the white stars fall into our eyes.
I always knew love comes with pain.
Sometimes I feel a giant ache in my heart
as though it will burst from my chest
because I fear I’ll never devour enough of you.