hazel eyes: a breathless study

green scales up the mountainside of your iris in soft brush with small leaves and thicket-branches a thousand little brambles and bushes adorning the slopes like a summer-wrap skirt pleating three-quarters of the way to the summit until the soil gets too thin and the air whips too cold leaving an exposed-earth crown that knows the ancient magic of capturing sunlight and turning it into gold a cascade of blushing flakes flecked upon that peak as we lace our limbs like puzzle pieces on this oceanside afternoon

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I i've been called many names but none quite so sweet as "you" coming from you II i want to be the you after your i love i want to nestle myself into your second-person as your second person i want to