your lips taste of home.
they taste like the summer wind that weaved through our hair when we drove down the highway at seventy miles an hour one hot August afternoon.
they taste like the salty ocean water we jumped into on your fourteenth birthday, of the laughter that surrounded us as its icy touch engulfed us both.
they taste of the cotton candy we stuffed into our mouths at the fair in November as we walked around aimlessly through the crowds of people with lights in their eyes.
they taste of hot mornings and even hotter afternoons, of cool nights and harsh thunderstorms.
they taste of the sweetest times of my life, and of the bitter moments i always wish i didn't remember.
they taste of the cake that went to waste at my quinceanera party when we danced away to the sound of a song with a title i've forgotten.
they taste of coconut water served fresh at the beach, as seagulls cruise the skies and the waves crash against the shore.
they taste of the tears we cried the night before i moved, and the tears we cried when we saw each other again for the first time in years.
they taste of sleepless nights in the city, of fireworks shot into the pitch black sky near the river behind your house,
of the yellow flowers that rained from the tabebuia trees planted in my backyard, the ones that tower like giants far above our heads.
they taste of everything i've ever wanted, and of everything i'm too scared to admit i need.
they taste of the feeling of home that i've spent my entire life chasing, city to city, country to country, coast to coast.
i don't know if i can ever say it enough, my darling, but your lips? they taste of home.