that I will take home with me:

park benches in the sun

your hand in my hair

the care with which you cook

wordless touches in the morning to say we're awake

my fingers on your neck

forehead kisses

smile lines

cobblestones

windswept hair

backrubs

blister bandages

morning stubble

sunscreen stains

your mother's cooking

dog fur

sleep-rasped voices

strawberries

train selfies

reaching for your hand

a neon dancing fish

your grandmother's coffee

your lip ring against my mouth

five thousand three hundred twenty-seven miles

one date seed