Nectar

last night I had a dream. a gentle vision reminding me, of simple things we overlook readily. like the way an autumn leaf is carried by breeze inaudibly, yet splashing colors most vibrantly. like the way a whisper feels when you're sixteen, standing under a shadow where no one could see. like the way raindrops can set you free, streaming down your cheek, then abruptly drenching dewy streaks. like the way we are seized, when pink petals are placed tenderly amid tresses, teasingly, by another’s unrelenting want for your sweet release. and to deem from all of these, the last one to forever be, of the most beautiful urges indeed-- when breath is pressed into waiting wish, like warm wind penetrating a coming spring. for we are nectar by nightingale sipped, like caressed skin by raindrop dripped, like girl neath shadow, fingertip to lips, with her indigo essence bursting within...