Everything is invigorating on you.
You’re as refreshing
as a cold glass of juice on a summer morning,
your whole persona dousing the air like citrus,
your intentions as clear as a pitcher of lemonade.
The blinding sunlight
pretends to be concealer under your eyes,
crisp dew on the top of a leaf
cosplays as mascara hugging your eyelashes.
I could catch the falling beads with my tongue if I tried.
I could catch you like a butterfly in a net if I just focused.