when you kissed me in the tunnel,
we were split in two like an atom.
we made our mouths to move
over a set so soft and scared,
and we named her like a flower.

we traded gifts,
and froze our feet
barefoot in the stream,
where the stone looked like
the flooring of a 1970's kitchen.

the blond-haired children stared
and held the hands of their mothers,
as they floated within feet
of our three headed body
on a tapestry by the lake.

we watched the wind
take the water in ripples
like the shudder of my thighs
when you're pressing into my soul,
trying to fuse us back together.

the green and brown stains
on the knees of my jeans
were proof the day happened
i wore them for five days after
so memories couldn't be washed out