Lost in you

From the moment that quiet “hello”

slipped through your crooked smile—

I got lost in you.

Your resilient roots dug so deep beneath my satin skin

that I couldn’t tell the difference between

what is tree

and what is bone—

what is yours

and what is mine.

I got lost in you—

morning coffee in one hand,

chewed-up pen in the other.

Porch sitting—porch sipping—

pouring endless messy thoughts of you in endless messy lines

on newspaper clippings, napkins, notebooks.

I got lost in you—

my favorite book—

dog-eared corners of our incandescent moments.

I hope I never find my way out of your coffee-stained pages.

I will stay lost in you.