It’s early morning, the sky
still a misty pink, remnants 

of steam still coating the surface

of the lake. You & I sit 
at the shoreline, our hands digging

into the sand, toes dipping 

into the murky water, gazes fixed
to anything but each other.

I don’t know if it’s safe

to show you the want
in my liner-rimmed eyes. The sun 

has risen in the East 

&, with the light of day, we forget
how to touch. Because now

my heart is a fluttering thing,

a broken-winged hummingbird
or swallow, my breath

jagged as city skylines. I part

my lips to tell you about the time,
years & years ago,

when I tied a bouquet of balloons

to my back & jumped
from the tree still standing

just behind us, past the field

of grass. How I flew 
for just a second before falling.