summer is nearing its end and I find myself mourning its loss
never have I considered myself one suited for the heat--
the sharp flames of raging arguments are enough to burn me to a crisp

but I smell the heady scent of smoke, thick with ash and cooking food
and I hear the birds sing to each other as if it were their last time
and the sky is blue and clear and it stretches onwards to the sun, which is setting in shades of coral and ocean brine

I feel the loss keenly in my chest, a bittersweet longing for the summers in which I lit up the sky with how brightly I shone
scorched and forged, my heart of hearts was unyielding and flooded my body with luminosity that rivaled the stars themselves
invulnerable and filled with a relentless energy that could not be stopped
until it burned out alone

I miss those days where I felt as if I were controlling the sea itself,
pulling and pushing like a brand new moon
the days where I flew so high on swings and sand dunes I thought I may never come down
where everything fit in the center of my palm and I held on tightly because no one could shatter my world

but these days, I sit and watch as the real star settles down to sleep beneath the ocean waves
and feel my skin become painted by the swathes of color in the sky
the sounds of motors and sirens remind me that I am no longer floating above it all
my brief flash long since faded, just as any other firework lit at dusk

my skin is prickling harshly around my neck
i can't touch or the prickling will turn to flames,
red streaks that highlight my skin like burn marks.

my chest is tight like my heart is the puppeteer of my ribs,
yanking the strings closer and closer until my lungs are being crushed
and suddenly i cannot breathe.

i'm being swallowed by a phantom pain and oh,
how it aches--
how it aches.

my muscles tense, ready to run
but i'm frozen as that disgusting churning swirling grabbing sensation
takes hold of my equilibrium and twists--

suddenly i cannot hear.
all that exists is a still portrait of the room i sit in,
cluttered but otherwise peaceful.

my arms tingle like something invisible is crawling up them
and the air feels like trying to breathe rocks.
my heart pulls harder on the strings,
tying a knot on the right side of my chest to keep everything pulled tight.

it aches.

all of me aches
and I cannot tell
if it is aching for you
or because you are gone.

my eyes sting, my throat burns,
my hands stretch out for a body that is longer there.

I crave you even more now
for I know I cannot have you.
I briefly wonder if you were ever mine,
but the memory of your tears and shuddering breath tell me otherwise.

you wanted this no more than I did
and I do not blame you
nor do I blame myself.

I wish there was a way to feel the warmth of your palms on my cheeks again
and I wish that those who wronged you had never done so
and I wish to hold you in my arms and remember that you are real and that you weren't just a dream.

every inch of me is aching and raw
but the only salves are you
and time.

it's another cliche but i think i found god in your face.
i found god in your hands and your arms and every inch of your skin.

selfless to a fault and gentle despite each ounce of pain inflicted upon you,
you remained sweet to those that mattered and cordial to those who didn't.

from your blunt nails to closely cropped hair to the curve of your back and all the way to your soft, soft beard,
i found god and i found love and i found parts of me i didn't realize had faded to embers.
you cupped your palms and breathed gently.

i began to remember.

the drag of careful fingertips and the gentle firmness of each kiss,
from the first touch to the last,
each carefully calculated risk and reward i was glad to participate in,
i found humanity.

i found the deepest and darkest aches a soul can bear
and i found crevices i didn't know could exist
without undermining the very foundation of one's being.

i found your love and i found your sorrow
just as you found mine,
from the first time i was unable to verbalize my emotions to the last,
from the first time you sheltered darkness from my eyes to the last droplet that spilled out.

i found more than i could have first imagined
and i do not regret a moment of my search.

my fingers will continue to find yours in the dark
and i can only hope my hands will be enough to guide you home.

i gravitate towards you
like a dusky desolate deposit of dirt
to its glimmering counterpart
of lapis lazuli, ridden with veins of gold

i reach and reach
to no avail
and i watch as you spin quickly away
stumbling and straightening before slipping into another stagnant spiral

how do i catch up to one
so quickly moving amongst the stars?
celestial bodies they may be
but i am a mere moon, reflecting light for your gaze

i can feel my muscles expanding and stretching
tendons taut with tension and
heart pounding and pounding away at the pavement
as i move forward and grasp outwards to you

but a mere millimeter of air becomes solid
and my knuckles crash against nothingness
instead of the warmth of your palm
which i'm not truly sure was even there to begin with

the darkness of this dying universe
is colder and more derelict than i have the capacity
to understand; and so i curl inwards
alone amongst pebbles and freely floating matter

because a moon without a planet
is simply an orb named vesta
or a goddess called hestia:
frequently forgotten and oft omitted
by those who claim to be scholars of myth, keepers of lore
and by extension, the very children she presided over
overseer of life and hearth nevermore.

i feel a rumble in my chest
and a jitter in my leg;
my hackles are raised
and my bared teeth aren't just a jest.

you think i'm a *****?
you haven't seen anything yet;
your words bit too much so revel in that cold sweat
'cause this rising whine is just the right pitch
to make you crumble, to make you humble.

don't think about coming near my makeshift pack, coalesced.