Poem: Until

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
a thousand,
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.