when it’s cold.
The crisp air as it flushes your face in rose
and fumbles through your hair.
I want to be the coat
that wraps around your body
shielding you from colder weather
and wind that cuts like ice.
I covet the sun that warms your skin,
opens your pores and makes them sweat.
How it reflects on the ocean’s surface
and dances across your eyes.
I want to be the rays warming
your soul like coffee on a crisp morning.
I covet the bottle that holds your secrets
once it’s empty.
The liquid confidence you need to let go
and speak not because you’ve been spoken to,
but because it is all too heavy to hold alone.
I want to be the barstool your stories are told to
and the safe you lock them all in.
I covet the clock that takes your time,
the halls that echo each of your steps,
and the bruises that have covered your skin.
I want to be the paper you write on,
the book that engulfs your attention.
Jealous in this absence,
I envy what I’ll never be.