You wear it really well—
my favorite face.
It’s humid and
you’re sprouting curls
of mac n cheese.
You hate the way
they curl so tight.

And,
you have
a cheesy
pizza smile,
sauce on your tongue
and suited legs.
We like
the way you
look in blue —
the color of
my lips
without
your own.

But the air
smells like winter,
and hot chocolate
in the rain,
you will
hold your hands
over my head
to cloud
me from
the things that
make me sad—
like oatmeal, never
going to
the gym,
and my parents
growing old.

Salty eyes.
You don’t like
it when
I️ wear
my tears
upon
my nose.
You don’t
know
I like
to lick
them from
my cheeks.

Warm nights
with warm thighs.
A puppy on my lap.
You see
too much
your own
reflection
in the mirror.
And also mine.