Summer tastes like lemonade from a wet glass dripping with cool
condensation. I hear his beautiful voice so vivid and I can't tell the
difference between my thoughts and actual sound. I'm in love. This time
it feels different. It feels like the world has run to the park and
decided to play this massive game of tag and I'm not it.
His kisses are so warm and so incredibly mine; I could sun bathe wrapped in his tongue.
Every morning I awake entangled in his arms and every night I fall asleep nuzzled in his chest.
His skin is a palette of smells made of orange orchards, violets blooming and clean linen dried in the summer's warm breeze; a palette that time has perfected.
The boy is eccentric and unique. He is simple yet so intricate. Very tender, but firm in his ways.
This summer I'm going to stay again. Bless me father for I am tame.
