The cold air on the heaters pushing the cold from the shower
That wakes you up in the morning
That’s my Jasmine Tea, my blissful addiction.
The time’s coming for euphoria, for come-ups and for rebirth.
The tectonic plates of our faces will change again, the cascading waves at the top of our pores
Will ring opalescent in shifting beauty obscured by bright eyes.
This is where Shia just did it.
This is where Donovan sat and talked about an empty Baltimore.
This is where I became self-assured.
Even though the season’s in peak bitter,
Peppermint schnapps gales hit us with the same burn
And refuse us warm bellies,
The background is stark, white, and cold.
The dormant things lie in wait for the first kiss of spring’s promise
When the air soothes, not stings
When the daffodil harbingers make their brave venture
And colonize their space under the namesake of beauty.
A garden of eden appeared under closed eyes,
And all it took was a whiff of its potent nostalgia.