You In Other Words

The other day, you asked how I would describe you.

Your hands are lavender

Your eyes are coffee

Your smile the moon.

When I say your hands are lavender

I don't mean that your fingers are flowers

Or that your palms are a purplish hue.

I could say that the whites of your eyes are the mug

Holding your mocha iris in caffeinated bliss

But it wouldn’t be accurate.

o your smile is not made of rock

And my intentions do not include space travel

Or extended metaphors about craters

Because none of that matters

When you are here.

It is the mornings when you run your hands through my unkempt hair

Your fingertips dancing along my scalp

So gently I barely notice it

That the smell of lavender comes to mind

The calming sensation your hands create soothes with every caress.

The truth is that when you look at me,

(My less than subtle glance) meeting your eyes,

Brings warmth to my cold thoughts,

Making the winter of my mind more bearable

Than the coffee you feverishly drink in the morning

The nights when the light of the day

Dies out too quickly

Under a blanket without stars

Your smile gives me hope

Shining through in my darkest places

Giving me the strength to leave our bed at dawn

About the Author

Hannah Carlson is a Senior Sociology major hoping to continue their career publishing poetry. They publish writing on their instagram @perchance2sleep and their blog perchance2sleep.wordpress.com when they can, in between senior thesis and smashing the patriarchy.