our first kiss was in the rain.
it was gentle and it was scared.
we were like two rabbits in the headlights,
holding each other for dear life,
bracing ourselves to be hit.
rain has never been the same.
for a while it was sweetness,
and soaked lovers under a canopy of leaves,
now when the rain intrudes the sky,
every droplet that falls
holds the memory of one of our million kisses.
it's just cleaning the electricity of your hands
from under my skin,
and washing your smell from my clothes.
but
for you, it's just the rain,
and I think that's always been the difference between us.

you were never an artist.
I tied your hands behind your back,
placed a paintbrush between your teeth
and forced you to paint us a picture perfect dream.
the colour was never rich enough
and the sun never cast gold beams
in the direction we wanted them,
or as bright as they could have
if I just learnt to paint on my own.

I will fill a jar with the first bundle of air to fill your lungs
each morning
and call it my own.

the silence in my head is stifled
by the deafening tick of the clock.
in the past month of my life,
I've had to grow up too fast.
the trigger of the starting gun was pulled,
and I was shoved onto the racetrack.
it's like trying to keep grip on honey,
running through my fingers,
coating them in sickly gold.

first, I learnt that love and lies
have a more faithful relationship
than we ever did.
they stroll around a paradise island,
away from the world and the truths,
hand in hand.
they drink the untouched juice of coconuts
and feed from the flesh of mangoes.
I hope that one day,
they become separable and learn to thrive on their own.
for now, I observe love and lies
in awe and jealousy
and let them wild.
they have my blessing.

the second thing that I have learnt
is to believe in ghosts.
for, there was a ghost beside me
confined in the four walls of my room.
a crumpled, lifeless body,
her hand limp in mine,
her head too heavy for her shoulders.
she tells me between tears and short, rasped breaths,
that life isn't for her.
I watched her leave my house,
and step into the air, floating away.
she's a balloon,
desperate to join the clouds in the sky,
but I hold the string,
keeping her at arms reach for just a little while longer.

Third, I learnt that friendship is a flower that grows in the dark.
it's beautiful too, and strong,
with a thick sturdy stem holding delicate petals.
the most beautiful flowers have the sharpest thorns
and I've been pricked too many times.
it's watered by the salts of our tears
and feeds from our raw laughter.
within me is a greenhouse of wilted flowers.

lastly, I learnt love is everywhere.
in the air that we breathe,
in the hollow cry of a guitar,
in the incandescence of a flame.
in the juice of coconuts and the flesh of mangoes,
in the eyes of a ghost,
in the roots of a flower.
in the shove to push me onto the racetrack.
love is a constant even when time is fleeting.
the deafening tick of the clock is what reminds us to be alive.

I will force every ounce of my energy
into changing my heavy lump of skin and bone
into a flickering shadow,
warmed by the sun's affectionate kiss,
for then I can follow every step you take on this
albeit,
messy journey
so that you are never alone.

I had my first dream last night that you weren't in.
not even a minor character,
your ****** name wasn't even in the credits,
let alone plastered across the sky in flashing lights
like you want it to be.
my first reality that you didn't belong in,
and it was the most blissful peace that I can remember since we bathed in pools of cloud.

I heard the first song that didn't make me think of you yesterday.
the lyrics, for once, were just lyrics,
not an embodiment of you and the things you do.
guess what?
it was coldplay.
you always hated coldplay.

this morning, I basked in the sun and didn't picture you coated in gold light beside me.
I didn't look at the leaves adorning the trees and picture your face laughing beneath it.

I didn't trace the plate lines of my palm and imagine the earthquake we used to create when yours collided with mine.

I didn't eat new food that I wanted you to try and I didn't want to share the smallest details of my day with you.

you may have won this poem, loverboy,
but don't be too triumphant.
your victory won't last long.
it's the era of my new beginnings without you and I'm going to be just fine.

one day the crack of your voice during a whisper is going to make
the each of the stars melt,
molten honey,
dripping from the sky.
I will catch it in my raw hands
and coat our hearts in it
so that we will become part of the night sky
like we always said we would.
maybe we could float away
or belong there
because if I know one thing for certain
it's that our feet do not belong
on this earth.
you can harness the stars,
without so much as the parting of your lips
and a gentle exhale,
and I hope one day you realise that.