i. sky
august becomes september and
summer is still painting colors on our skin
and I can’t wait to see you again.
we bask in powder-blue
light and allow our hands to meet
sweaty under the table like
sunflowers bending towards
heaven
ii. cornflower
these days feel like
sandpaper scraping skin
tension gripped between my shoulder blades
and compressed in the hinge of my jaw
textbook pages
thin as moth’s wings slice my fingers,
stinging, but I hold every
moment delicately in my palm
because I smell eucalyptus
and hear cool springs rushing
when I kiss you
and it soothes all the wounds
the world could ever give me
iii. cerulean
the apples are rotting
into the ground, crumbling to
reeking, mealy fragments
you cook meals for your mother
and she spits them back in your face
and I know you’re not fragile,
but I also know that you hold twisted things
like punishment within your chest and try
to push them out and they warp and tear inside you
but can’t pierce your tough skin
so I’ll drive to school early every day
to trace patterns on your neck
and tell you to breathe
iv. navy
I lie awake for hours but can’t get up
october mornings pour through my blinds
like the deepest part of the sea
my bones are lead and steel
struck raw with flint over and
over until I’m too sore
to move
and even though the words “I’m fine”
taste like I’m betraying you
you say them all the time, so why can’t I
v. indigo
a new day comes
and somehow I get out of bed
just like I did yesterday
to drag my body through infinite hallways
and choke jaundiced eggs past my tongue
but when I pull my car in
next to yours, today
you smile, through the rain that blackens
the air and the dead leaves layered damp
over everything, you smile,
and I have never seen something
so miraculous