Dali

Honey,
that’s what it tasted like
when you kissed me
in your hotel room;

like honey
on an aircraft
where the air
is so thin
it makes
my head
light.

Loving you
made me
feel that high.

You made
my lonely
forget itself.

You made
me believe
home
was neither
a place nor
a person.

Before leaving,
I wanted to tell you:
of all the places
you have been,
I wanted my heart
to be your favorite.

Instead,
I said: tell me,
what does
Amsterdam
look like?

You smiled,
almost to say:
anywhere could be
Amsterdam,
anywhere with you.