ivyparks

it was a summer of sunburns
and wild brown curls, of 
jumping into the lake with
our clothes still on.

i lay in your bed in
the mornings, braiding
your unruly hair and 
giggling softly.

sweet cardamom tea

the power goes out sometimes here.
it's hot. really hot.

i sleep a lot now.

i am always tired.

plane rides seem so scary
nowadays.
i have a fear of falling
for you.

sometimes my head splits open

i stuff my memories into a
glass jar, the cool surface
soothing my dry hands.

dancing alone never felt
this lonely before,
and i wonder if maybe
it's because he is dancing 
in the sky.

surrounded by angels,

an aching heart is
a common sickness, nevertheless,
it has no cure.

a spreading sadness,
a growing hole.

a hurt that is pushed
away, growing stronger
and stronger until it overtakes
the body which it inhabits.

sadness finds its
twisted path back into
her eyes as words drift
off her tongue like
smoke.

sweetness melting 
into the dark, bitter
taste of mourning.

betrayal is the only
word to describe the sinking

the pain comes in
crashing, violent waves that
leave my body broken,
my lungs heaving as i taste
the saltwater on my cheeks.

i sit out on the roof,
writing letters to wherever
you are now, because writing