Leaving the Fight

Warm drips melt
on my shoulders
falling down my arms
like dappled leaves
gently spilling sunshine.

Warmth can’t be cupped
cold and hard
like snowballs
forming a sheltering fort
to challenge you from.

Summer, you vixen,
my long distance love,
you have teased me again.
I ache for your taste,
your heat on my tongue.