golden sun and cool moon
brush by a tiny fish in the ocean
they leave messages for each other
like post-its on a fridge
of a house torn by responsibility

the moon knows no rest,
the sun knows no faith.
and the fish,
courier of myth,
tells stories
of a fleeing sun,
and an unshakable moon.
two who always
miss
each other’s hold.

you told me you could never be a poet
but
my eyes are like cats eye marbles
and
im a reminder of flower fields
at night
fireflies dancing between
strands of grass
and
dandelions
you used to write me poetry
with verses of
"i love you"
and
"see you tomorrow"
but
you told me you could never be a poet

here i am again
wet face
aching heart
why is my love a flood?
why is your love a tsunami?
i've taken cover but
i should've stayed inside
and sooner

built my wall
of broken sticks
built my wall
of flawless glass

(my hands are shaky—
the sticks will splinter,
the glass will crack)

i know
i'll end up here again