One

Head. Injuries. Swollen. Scars. 

Sunshine. Legs. Grass. Dirt on feet. 

I lay, you lay. 

Sky. No color. 

No true color. 

Just a connotation of colors all mixed into shape. 

Eyes. Seek. 

Seek to find, to touch. 

To believe.

I can touch with my eyes things 

and places where my skin wouldn't touch, 

where my hands wouldn't go. 

Is it sick to say that I would like 

to be the epidermis on your face? 

I would love to travel. 

Your pimples would be my volcanoes. 

Your blond hairs will be my "Montana grass". 

Your black hairs will be my open road, 

where I am able to reach any mph 

and not be ticketed. 

Only by your goosebumps, will I stop. 

For they create a mountainous drive way, 

where I need to be cautious 

not only for myself  

but for you too. 

For we are a connection.