Syrup

And on that note-

I could be the raw rain that beats against your brow.

I could be the hibiscus that you mince between your hair.

And perhaps the footprints of your feet when you walk home from the beach.

I am the salt you taste when you breathe the sea.

I am the bubble you blow and the shadow that glides away spraying sunshine on your face.

I am your own, I am my own and I don't exist.

I stopped holding the water between my fingers, thanks to you.