Midnight in Michigan:
the heat of July spills through
my open bedroom windows
breeze billows my white linen curtains.
You and I lay sweat-drenched
on pink silk sheets
my mother purchased because
she wants to feel rich.
We won’t say “I love you”
not tonight
maybe not ever,
but we both know how we feel.
I see you in the darkness
hiding behind scared hazel eyes.
My Adonis,
so temporary and eternal
we are not spoken for
but in this moment, I live for you.