RDP Monday: CARAMEL
The shadow at the bottom of the stairs
the silence that answers when you call out ‘who is there’
the kiss that is delivered with the same firm lips, always placed in the same exact
spot on mouths caught unaware
you smell like burnt sugar
and apples rotting in a fruit bowl visited by flies.
I know your face
I know your name
I don’t know what color your eyes are
why doesn’t it matter, I sometimes wonder
that I don’t know what your are
or why I don’t seem to care.