Sapped to a pastel
against the brightly colored world
(I'd rather live in dreams about you).
I've started taking things that aren't mine
to feel closer to memory.
All pale pinks of my skin
washed in the greens of your eyes.
The bonfires I build, the misty greys I exhale
are all smoke signals to you
across the world.
*Come home to me;
you are a home to me.