Heliophilia

I am intoxicated by the solstice with its gold and amber heavens. I had not noticed the way the sun adorns us so madly in saffron glory. 

It simmers along my shoulders to create a sugary roux thickening on my skin, bubbling forth a butterscotch glow that drips in the concentration of your eyes. 

We perspire an air of longing for one another, of dense magnetism and gravity. Where I might let you bite into the curve that rests between my neckline and your absolute desire to do so. 

If I took you by the hand, would you lead me to the uninhibited places of your mind? 

To unfasten your most profound thoughts and let them vacation on the fringe of your tongue- just so I can taste them. 

We sunbathe in ripened utterances freshly cut from our cerebral vines. 

They compel us to cover one another in carnal emblems by way of scarlet palms and python arms. 

Imagine molding breathlessness in them.

Us, flourishing as a season of heatwave and flame. A wildfire within each other’s grasp. 

Isn’t it beautiful? The way we bloom so intensely for one another. Even the sun itself bows in awe.