Intimacy Yellow

I wish I could tell you,

Not with the manipulation of air and voice

Or the stain of soft charcoal on white pages,

But make you see without words so you understand

That I love trust like I long

For the smell of your skin

It’s somewhere hidden in my attraction,

The things my parents did and the combination

Of T, A, G, C that gives me blue eyes

Fondness of your fragrance

And an indomitable spirit but a body which was made

For reception

And perhaps my synesthesia has broadened—

For there is nothing about the word intimacy that isn’t

Pastel Easter Yellow and tasting of melted butter

And feeling of granted joy and longing,

Not of touch of skin or the scent of my adoration

But of absolute conviction;

Trust

The kind that lets me cage my soul

Like an intimacy-yellow tiny chirping bird

And gift-wrap it for—

Keep it, darling.

It sings.