S.S.

It’s opalescence?

Well, it’s something. In her soul,

in her candid eyes.

 

M.P.

One day, I’ll crack that

modesty, somehow tell you

how special you are.

 

C.B.

“What do I give you?”

I can imagine your face,

the utter horror.

 

M.B.

Milk and honey: phrase

made real by tender pallor,

adoration’s grace.

 

M.C.

Holding you, syntax

fails. Always safe deserve here

to be maybe. Stay.

 

E.M.

You head East, and South,

pocket lined with inside jokes

that form a map home.

 

M.W.

You didn’t know that

it was all about you. Well,

it always has been.

 

N.E.

Head thrown back, drinking

up wave of effervescence—

did you feel it, too?

 

J.H.

“How are you doing?”

Voice lowers, tremors. Shimmers.

I can hear it now.

 

M.L.K.

You taught me about

bronzer as we looked into

such similar eyes.

 

C.C.C.

You know you’ve shown me

so much more than I can fit

in five seven five.

 

Y.C.

Who you are—a form,

a power I breathe—is a

page-turner to me.

 

J.F.

I see me in you,

but things more beautiful, too.

Sometimes, I see you.