In the searing airless midsummer-
Clockwork morning rewinds
cobalt into a bleeding orange yolk dripping across
the canvas of the world.

Sky, turn the colour of dreams. Heart, turn the colour of love-
I’m posed over a skyscraper
Because I wanted to touch the stars. Because I wanted to touch you.
There’s a beauty found in the smallest spaces
Gaps in your heartbeat, getting your toothbrush mixed with mine
Honey-lemon on my tongue

So maybe you loved me, but not in a way I comprehended
I’m thinking of your lips, your eyes
and the way you said goodbye-
The word wrapped around your tongue like a prayer.
Pink bleeds into violet and it looks like the 5 a.m. Berlin skyline
might tear itself apart, like a heart bursting or a car crash.

So it’s dawn. So I’m inconsolable.
And if the angel sun sets,
then so be it.