May 3
B1. Honey in December
Winter cold — outside, the world freezes to glass.
Your mouth after hot tea — I taste honey when you speak, now.
Sweetness on my tongue — your lips move, steam between us.
Warmth that comes from within — not from fire, not from blankets, from you.
Seasons inside us — snow on my skin, summer in your eyes, spring in the room we share.
Outside, January. Inside us: everything — here, now.
written with Miran & Emil Lichtrand