MIDSUMMER THOUGHTS ➸ poetry & prose

he

he reminds me of fruity perfume;

of fresh daisies and lavender,

he reminds me of sweet-scented candles

and like the Bermuda grass near Eden,

he is the comfort of 2AM conversations

with droopy eyes and dripping rain,

i fall asleep to the image of his voice

in his letters, the boundaries disappear

and he laughs with me in the same room

at the same time, he reminds me of silence;

of tranquil nights

he reminds me of city lights and street lamps

when the coffee's gone cold

and the conversations die down

as the serene cricket chirps start—

after the evening rain, he is the personification

he is nostalgia, he is déjà vu

he is mystery, he is surprise

he's the exact moment as

watching fireworks by the bay

or staring at falling snowflakes at winter

he's the same happiness

and the same melancholy

sometimes, he's here

but most times,

he's by someone else