[1] I'm laying in bed right now, trying to comprehend the loss of you, but it's so dark without your brilliance.

[2] It's hard to put myself into your shoes because you were always the one who saw things from more than one perspective. I was always the selfish one.

[3] You held so many memories, snapshots, moments. I thought they were immortal.

[4] I miss the way you fit so perfectly in my hands.

[5] You always took your time when we were communicating. You made me think and now I am left in a mindless fog.

[6] You always tried to make amends. I was so cruel but you never gave up on me, as if giving up never crossed your mind.

[7] I believed in the inevitability of us. I thought we would last forever.

blue was the color of our first passing glance;
it was only a second, but it felt like eternity.
when our eyes met and I fell into them.
i fell into the way they reached into my soul,
electric.
your eyes were electric blue,
stars charged, condensed into your being,
they left me blinking, disoriented at your beauty

blue was the color of your voice,
when you told me that you loved me.
your voice was honey to my bitter soul,
coarsely soft.
you only said it once that day,
but i replayed it in my head so many times
that i began to believe it.
your shirt was powder blue, how could i forget?

blue was the color of our first kiss,
when you caught me mid-laugh.
it was so cold, but the heat traveled
from your lips to mine,
your touch sent a spark down my spine.
it was just you and me under the inky blue sky
and the infinity of the stars was all ours,
just like the infinity of us.

blue is the color of my tears when you left,
when i reached the bottom of the tissue box.
they could not make up for the absence of your shoulder,
your broken promise that left my soul black and blue.

we trampled on jewelry shops
in shoes of italian leather
we tore up people and places
justified
let other people clean up
the mess we had made

You are first grade without the one two or three,
I needed you but you didn't need me.

you diagnose colorblind
administering treatment
to the privileged whites

but fail to diagnose yourself

Broken,
Cracked open,
Unveiled to me my loneliness
And that I am the cause.
Dropped off a building into flight:
Number CX884.
I am human,
Waking up my tear ducts
I am not 'just fine,'
And my day was not 'okay' or even 'great'
But then there is grace.
Opening my arms to receive a hug
And relaxing them.
A circle
Surrounded by the Alpha and Omega,
Spun around and around
Looking into the eyes of the Outsider,
The one without a home,
The one who points my eyes to my only home.
The one who was not okay;
Eli Eli lema sabbachthani
But infinitely more than okay
Infinitely infinite.
I am surrounded.

what goes up
must come down
and you found a way
to come down faster

She gave me a box of sixty four
But told me to color in the lines.
I colored inside the lines of the lazer-printed firetruck;
I colored it Forest Green
And Tickle Me Pink.
"Firetrucks are red."Gentle but stern.
Timidly, I took out my drawing of her,
Skin Purple Mountains Majesty.

Her apron was Cerulean,
But her frown Scarlet Red.
My tears were clear.
There was no color for tears
In the box of sixty four,
But all my firetrucks were colored Red,
All my drawings of her were Peach.
And her lips were always Scarlet Red.

Fingers, toes, eyelashes fully formed,
Disappointment embodied in a corpse.

How ephemeral this life is,
But ephemerality was cut short.

we are closer to heaven than we are to hell
because to rise up we must truly fall

You directed your sun beamed smile towards me,
Allowed me to gaze upon the fallen stars that reside in your eyes.
We had a conversation. It was about stories, I think
But then, all I could think about was the story of you and me,
How life could be if we rode into outer space,
And we could restore those fallen stars,
Make them into something even more beautiful.
Because our eyes would meet, and we would be so close
That the paradox of mirrored eyes would reflect
Into the futility of life's constellations.

Life's colors exist in red, yellow, and blue, an unaffordable simplicity existing only on the gray wax paper taped to my pallet. My hands are sweaty underneath my gloves, slick with linseed and paint. Leaves fall and stick to the surface of artificial canvas smeared with the tracks of pigment on my brush.
There I dance, grass caressing my bare feet, hair guided by the gentle breath of wind. An improvisation of ultramarine and alizarin crimson and titanium white, time transcends, though the shadows move. In this moment, nothing else matters except for the performance of light, color, motion.