Slow Kisses and Kerosene

I’m not sure if you really know me at all.
But I love the way you look at me.
Eyes that do not know my past,
do not know my heartache, the blisters.

You remind me of slow kisses and kerosene –
you light me up.
Sunset fireworks, bright and uncontained.
Sweet and playful.
Oh, how you make me laugh.
Rhodonite cheeks and dancing bonfires.

You are helping me find this new version of me.
I let the darkness dissipate.
I feel childhood again –
you know, what it’s really supposed to be like.

Ink-stained fingertips and chalkboard sidewalks,
bed forts and belly laughs.
Growing up innocent and idyllic.
Remembering, behind my lips, untainted moments.
Castles made of jade, hair in French braids.

You remind me to read comic books,
that imagination can by dizzying and defying.
You scare me in stitches,
I have so many questions that have no escape.
They’ll sit behind my teeth –
cling to the back of my throat.

But my eyes, they will beg you to look at me,
that unassuming way you do.
Slow, silent – steady,
light me up – you were so unforeseen.
Drown me in sweet kisses and kerosene.