stills only my heart
a perception of
both green
and forever red
in water reflected
on the table spilled
as the bowl cracks
splinters through
the half eaten flesh

She accepted
the crayon
and drew
a transparency
to step across
the mirror.

Living on
horizons
long forgotten,
she sprang from fire,
her love affair,
a tale of fairy.

The baobabs grew,
feeding on her,
shredded the glass.
A darker night
devoured the moon,
diluted her crayon.

Then came the day after.
She rose
and drew a crayon.
She accepted lucidity
feeding on transparency.
She took a step.

when you're on your last drink:
   find a crowded bar
   with a dark corner
   on the upper level
          and seep into the wood
          like the spirits
          you swear are consoling you

It takes this boy three words to figuratively melt all my literal progress, to turn my thoughts right back into the whirlwind of memories I've spent the past twelve months trying to silence. At last, I stopped hearing his voice in the howling wind but two missed calls and a couple 2AM texts later and I can't think straight. I see his smile in the spaces between my fingers and LOOK ALIVE, SUNSHINE ricochets around my skull, firing my synapses sharply while his hurricane laughter echoes between my neurons.

Three words to rip all of my unexpressed feelings from their neatly-packed shoe boxes and send them swirling around my head in that violent vortex that took a year to subdue.

Three words to unleash the chaos I had finally repressed.