i made staircases out of these bones
too young and too fast, the same way
you came and the same way you left.
in those days these lungs were oceans;
this ribcage was sinking. i only wanted
to let the waves wash over, to forget you,
to dissolve me.

we made homes in stairwells when
the light still leaked through the leaves,
when it still spilt orange over faded green.
the times when i was your sky and you
electric blue, the times the strawberries
seeped into your skin; how the cuts
on your fingers made me want to heal
you when i could only
love you more.

but maybe even after all these years
your fingerprints are still etched into me;
i will always carry your hands
in my own.

(A.H.Z)