Chamomile

Annabelle Norton

He placed his lips on hers,  

she tasted like the  

sweet stickiness of sleep.  

The kiss deepened, and it filled  

his mouth like a swallow  

of chamomile tea with honey.  

His tongue slid down to her throat,  

drinking her in.  

They laid in bed like a headache  

in the head of a hangover.  

He could feel the heaviness  

of her bones, her body falling  

into his as he held her.  

His arm was around her  

shoulder, the other gently  

on her hip. He wanted to hold her  

face in both of his hands and  

tip her lips to his like a  

teacup to the mouth.  

Fall 2021