She was laughing even as we kissed and kissed again. There is no better taste than someone else’s laughter in your mouth.
She’s the rising smoke
after you blow a candle out,
twenty-two seconds of sunlight
when the sky’s full of clouds.
She’s the dream you have, so vivid,
you question if it really happened.
She’s the small part of you
that still believes in magic.
She’s a dizzy kind of comfort
that you never thought you’d feel.
She’s life after you recover,
all the ways in which you heal.