I moved into
an old cabin last month.
At the window,
tea in hand—
mist curls over evergreens,
damp cedar drifting in.
Foster roots—
no branches within.
Growing a spine
cost me standing tall.
I sleep, wake—
request denied.
Need no one,
but crave Paisley,
sifting our future.
When we meet,
doubt confuses me.
Now, her presence
ripples shyness
up my spine.
Red hair spirals down her back.
A wink—green, freckle-specked.
Red lipstick, bitten tease.
Oak creaks, footsteps fade—
rope snaps hope,
feet dangle,
mud, rain.
At her touch,
I release fear—
skin tingling, heart sprinting.
I fall for the first time,
not like me to tell.
I ditch control—
tell her I love.
She smiles, already knows,
brushes my cheek.
Anxiety sinks,
I lick my lips.
Paisley says she isn’t in love.
My face flushes.
I turn to leave.
Paisley grabs my arm,
wipes tears.
Says at first,
she needed no one,
but she needs me.
We kiss
promise no one else
will taste our lips.
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