June Bug and Her Busy Bee

The watermelon is sticky between my fingers


Infinite hues spread across the mountain


Where i lay my head on your chest


We press our bodies together


Tight.


All because it is the season to do so  


 


My ego is ripe, succulent, and bursting


It is fed by your intoxicating voice


Drunk by the end of your song,


i beg you to keep singing  


 


As our weak feet


Stumble along the trail, we acknowledge


We are weak kneed 


And in love


With the January rain


On each other's face  


 


We leave behind a series of 


Tastes, colors and sounds


Soon


Sympathetic synesthesia controls my life  


But that doesn't bother me none


I  am chemically bound to you


And you to me.

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