Sometimes (not enough to be romantic)
I still think of you as you were
naked, raw and vulnerable,
transcendant and powerful as the dawn
I remember that I smiled like a child,
and tangled playfully through your trailing raven hair
anything I asked, you would give it
and before you all I had was laid bare.
I think you bore insight
when you told me I don't love you
even if I think you were right,
that doesn't mean I don't wish it weren't true
and I still think with fondness on that time
the warmth of your body pressed to mine
you were the earth, and I was the sky
if only for a moment, one morning in July.
