the road home wound and swirled like a coil
the music on the radio tuned out like white-noise
and the sun had set to a point where everything lit up in red
a crimson so deep
it stained the trees, the grass
the tall towering buildings, the calm suburban neighbourhoods
the cracked pavements, the dark alleyways
the glass shop windows, the exposed brick of an abandoned structure
the glossy sides of the cars that drove infront of us, the concrete we drove on
the faux leather seats, the metal of the adjustable headrest
the tips of my hair, the tips of my fingernails
my skin, and all of the things that sat with me in silence
i close my eyes
and i feel.
other title: crimson hour
at this forbidden hour,
Cinderella has to be home,
yet her hands are gently being kissed
as her heart turns into a pumpkin,
ready to be patched in mid March,
she dances with a broken glass heel,
twirls the ticking clock,
making the hour golden.
tangerine and pink flying through your eyes.
Sending flames to not only the sky,
but my heart as well.
They engulf my soul.
Keeping me warm through the night
when the colors have faded to nothing but smoke.
Skin wrapped up in the magic of your fingertips,
the wild flower you tucked behind my ear
blown free in a spiral towards the blistering clouds.
I ran and ran to the edge of the field, grass tickling my toes.
Only to feel the warmth on my back and realize it’s time again.
There will be a million wildflowers, but only one golden hour.
I wouldn’t want to miss it.
It seems like we just started talking about my move and you coming with me.
Everyday went on just like the last,
only a little better than the day before.
Like I had plenty of time to count the seconds, waste the minutes and spend the hours away with you,
and then one day,
I woke up on a Saturday,
& were 6 days away from starting over together & me being 23,
the morning light casting a golden glow on your green eyes as you tell me "Good Morning" with a kiss
Right now you are packing the things you are bringing to merge our stuff into one place called home
Each day gets a little warmer, the future gets a little closer and the past gets a little bit further away & I'm starting to feel just like the flowers in the spring,
rising from the ground with the help of the sun's rays,
my roots stronger than ever, & ready to bloom into something beautiful
Here's to new things
Golden hour always treats the earth
and it's inhabitants well,
giving every animal
a yellow and orange halo,
the plants and weeds
beads of light to adorn them
and the people around you
a hazy glow.
— The End —