All my life, I waited for love
like pineapple. Sopping bites,
hair bristling on skin, tangy
and biting. I waited for
the nibble on my tongue.
It never came. You came,
and you were oxygen.
You were misting rain,
not tidal waves. All my life,
I watched my father hail,
and I bent towards blue.
How to know love,
it isn’t biting. Some days,
it smacks of nothing.
You scrub the petals
from my skin. You wipe
the juice pooling beneath
my chin. All my life,
I followed flames. Now
here you are, and
nothing aches.
A law student by day, Alixa writes poetry by night.