you're not
leaving yet. no,
i'll glue your limbs to the pavement,
lower your waving hand,
tell you
something to make your eyes crinkle
again.
again,
again,
again.
let's do it again, except now
i know not to close my lips
when i smile,
not to look away
from the sun.
i know
someday a woman will love you,
sleep every night with your breath in her mouth,
not the briny gulp of ocean
i swallowed when trying to call you.
watch me now, see
how my eyes change when you talk.
you're not
leaving yet.
no.
Your hair danced in the wind
yesterday, and the trees
turned your eyes green.
You took
a photo of me, my skin
flushed from the fire, my
eyes closed on accident
and I took one
her magenta marker
the silent clock
my desk, now darker
with dust like chalk.
his name in my phone
my swimming mind
his teeth were like moonstone,
mouth open that night.
today's air tastes like berries
and overused metaphors. the shadows run
across golden ground, and i look
at our old stone wall like they would in farmers' days.
a boundary, a gate
Comments
OMG. I love this poem so much. This is so relatable and heart-breaking :)
aw thanks!!
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