technicolor

It is August and the skies are dark

with clouds full of remorse

and barely any cars on the road

I think sometimes she forgets

she is a four-leaf clover

in an empty field

My technicolor princess

I believe I have found my

other half

She slips like a whisper of warmth

inside my blood

On the bad days when I'm

tin-can empty and scrubbed clean

of resolve

she knows before I do

her touch feels like the dull

glaze of summer

all hot car tops and hot legs

glinting droplets of honey dripping

everywhere

dripping from her hands

and her chin

and the contours in her irises

Perhaps we were made

for each other

like vines entangling

like two sides of a coin

spinning endlessly

The Yin to my Yang