a picture in my desk,
one i drew a long, long time ago.
before he even knew your name,
before you knew mine,
in the year was
a saint, not a star.
when i blushed as i rushed by you,
your hand idly petting your hair,
laughing for real,
that smile that goes all the way up
to your eyes
and rolls out like sunshine
on your crinkled nose.

i never wanted anything
so much as i wanted you.

pomegranate fingers,
sticky, stained red,
tiny jewels we pop into our mouths.
whole rubies swallowed,
and you look up at me
"did you ever think it would be like this?"