there is so much midnight about her It coils into her hair Into her ivory smile I could look at the sky and back into her eyes and not know the difference she is five am in a saturday that you arch closer to; roll over just to look at because you like the view she is the space between winter and fall when the leaves are confused as to who they are wrapped up in violent reds and proud golds hovering on the branches forcing the world to freeze demand a moment to look at how vibrant they are she is the pause She is holding my breath listening for her heart beat like a baseline she is making a garden out of me lilies blooming in my chest in a field of I dont know what to do about the gardener taking residence in my heart or what to do about the barbed wire roses she gives her and how foolishly she takes them she is consumed with a dollar store bouquet of “I love you” trying to wrap sunrise around a dark road with far too many houses and too few homes why wont she come home? I would plant lilies across her collarbone instead of iron roses we’d sit on the floor and I’d teach her how to write I love you again without the comma without the but or relash conversations and expectation or maybe how to write how beautiful she is rewrite all of the stars back into her midnight eyes.