there were golden lines slicing through the blinds when we came back from it. sometimes puddles form around the window while the rain falls steadily to join the old, as grey as the diamond blanket we dream under, as cold as the a/c unit that bites my toes every morning. i wrote a few small words on the crease of your back between the valley of your shoulder blades, nothing new, words of adoration, admiration, admonition, disbelief at where we are.
sometimes at night i see outlines of trees being tossed by the wind and i welcome the metaphors that creep into my brain of how similar we are, the trees and me. you're like the winter and i'm the summertime and snowflakes tied to sun-rays have never looked more outlandish and real.
remember when the thunder fought with the sound of your heartbeat and everything faded into a realm unreachable and we discovered who we were. the grey splattered wallpaper of this bedroom starts to feel like smog when you aren't around, what else can my eyes fix themselves to. i hang on to every i can't believe it, i'm in love with you, this is crazy like each letter is oxygen and i'm running out of clean air.
sometimes at night i trace your face with my eyes and wish you would say them again. sometimes i fall into holes around the sidewalk and i forget. i've never craved the wintertime more in my life. you always find me when i'm lost in those holes, crawl inside with your snowflakes and words, stay with me until i learn to walk again.