It’s a ball of knotted string
Stuck under my ribcage.
Whenever I start to untangle it,
I break a sweat & forget
Why I even tried.
It’s thirst after a tall glass
Of water, aching, curling
Around my neck like a vise.
It’s the damp
Lingering in a spring day,
Eyes that could hold an ocean
But that never look into mine.
It’s wild, honeyed laughter that
I chase around the corner, only to find
There was
Nothing
There.
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
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