Feels...

Red lips
pale skin
willow trees
and dead skin
life into death
flesh to soil








be insignificant and become dust with me
transform air into soul and breathe with me
slow and beautiful like summer's sunset
change my seasons and let ice crawl onto my branches
and be my winter

hurricanes or sandstorms

couldn't be blow me 

away like your thoughts do

let Samba de Gafieira be our new poetry we

write with synchronized body movements

and happy feet

as mas que nada plays us into the next morning

our memories will fight to keep

be my morning after my midnight conversation
hold me like cold hands learn to hold coffee mugs
and let lips flirt with mugs
as slow sips 
remind us of our fist kiss