They were as smooth as
the beaming rays that
poked through the
clouds of that November sun.
As familiar as my favorite track
playing on a loop in my
backyard on summer nights.
As inviting as your smile
when you wanted me to
sing along to that song
you used to adore so
much that it became ours.
Even if I hated it with
every ounce in my heart,
I put up with it just
for you.
– lips.
My auburn lips
stained your cheek
as the leaves fell
the afternoon of our
second date.
You held me close on
winter nights as we
watched stand-up.
You stopped picking
flowers from your
backyard as spring
passed us by just to
leave me like a hot
mess under the
summer sunlight.
-seasons.
You didn’t like
the mole on your chin.
You used to say it was
too prominent for
your face and how you disliked
that it contrasted with
your freckled cheeks.
But I thought that
your cheeks were
like a galaxy and
your chin had
the moon.
It’s the first thing I
noticed when
I realized
I liked you.
– face like a universe.
Everyone warned me
about your bitterness
but, as time passed,
I saw the drop
of sweetness that was
buried deep inside.
– You were like a cortado.
Author: Beth Haze
Email: [email protected]
Author Bio: nineteen years old from ba. usually overly caffeinated writing short stories about people she sees on trains. poetry lover.
She’s currently writing about music for Bleached Magazine, publishing poems on her poetry Instagram @hazedsights and preparing to be a junior in college.
Link to social media: Instagram @beluvila | Twitter @bethaze
