when you're a world away.

Lavender:

fragrant, 

fateful,

when you walk through the door.

Lavender that blossoms from the thin, small space between your skin and your sinuses,

that chuckles as it

floats across the room and

curls itself around my ankles,

my thighs,

my collarbones,

planting itself,

finally,

in my body's identical delicate space:

flashes of lilac,

of amethyst,

of orchid, of maroon.

My vision is filtered,

starry and

celestial.

I want

more,

I want mauve,

I want periwinkle,

pomegranate,

magenta.

And I want you, 

my constant reminder to

color outside the lines.