Sometimes I look back on the past,
where our bodies intertwined like vines,
and our hearts bloomed with ivy.

I was the deep golden
yellow hue of the sun
and you were the cerulean
picture-perfect ocean.
When we crossed paths and
created an avocado green,
you decided that it made you ill
to see grass that didn’t belong to you.

I'm still
picking out
the shards
of your words
out of my skin.

My heart
is a garden
you forgot
to water.

My reflection is murky, and
I'm trapped underwater.

My mirror shines the withered
teal tides that wrap my body
in such a way that doesn't feel
too loose or too tight back
into my pupils.

My eyes stare back through
the misty fog layers
trying to dig out of my muddy-
bottomed melancholy soul as I
grip my porcelain pedestal sink.

Dirt cakes underneath my fingernails
from trying to dig you back
out of the grave in which I tried
hiding you in six feet deep.

My hair is a wild,
untameable sea of brown
plastered against my spherical face
from the dreary rain clouds above.

When you left me, there was no
other place to trap the rest of
the memories except in a cemetery
of restless souls and lifeless nostalgia.

They will never see colors as bright
as the watercolor painted sunsets
God has bestowed upon the plateaus
of this shaken up earthen structure...

Ever again.

I wrote ‘I love you’ with my fingertip
on your knee as you held me in your arms.
You kept trying to guess what I was saying,
and could never figure it out.
The part that breaks my heart the most,
is that you never did.

Catastrophe, my dear,
is defined by tragedy
in its purest form.

My heart has held on to you
like an anchor holds a boat.
The current beats against
the bow, over and over,
wearing away the memories
that can never be repeated.

Your eyes resembled the deepest
parts of the ocean. And anyone
that came along to make sense
of them would easily lose their way.
Unfortunately, I fell into the trap,
and I could never find my way out.