metaphors, similes deux

you are a rough wave
that must have crashed upon the wrong constellation
but oh. this bright skin
still shines, even through longing for
twitter-pated fingertips blending into one.

cabinets

beneath first layers of tres leches are strawberries
smiling awaiting the engulfing nature of your teeth
and

i smell somewhere hovering the scent of polished wood after rain, in the summer time
right above where we used to sit
dreaming of deserts movie sets and togetherness melded along with our sloppy kisses from behind
the silver screen moldings in the carpet.

complementary are the rhythms the bed makes now
without you in it
so please
if you stumble upon a story, that includes laughter or
cheese
tell me.

and if your swirling around in that brain of yours, like we used to do, dont be afraid of what you find, just like
tall grass hiding under the short rainstorms of fall, of course, you dont remember the color
of the leaves, but
the couch table rug and my heart
still smell of your body
odors, which linger in the air as though ashes are waiting to envelop them

and your text message sound, still haunts me with the memory
of

empty couch sitting spots which ca-do-o-le
beneath my underpinnnings.