your summertime dreams

let me be your july

the air that warms your still-frozen bones

after a blue, blue winter


let me be the breeze that twists

through your hair

that ruffles your clothes

that you breathe in and

sigh back out


let me be the fire

that lights you up from the inside

let me be the fire that makes your eyes sparkle when

you think of something clever

let me be the fire that moves your hands through

my hair and

down my waist


let me be the thought that

sprinkles itself dreamily in your mind

when you wake up on a sleepy sunday morning


let me be the muddy old road that you

run away on

when you can’t face the world

and let me be the stars that

you stare at

and call beautiful


let me be the bitter black coffee

that always gets you out of bed in the morning


let me be your smiles

and your tears

and your pain and passion and perfection


let me be yours.