in your own world
repainting the walls
dying your hair
combatting the urge to make it all fall.
how I could make you see
this isn’t a limited belief
silent
your expectations of me

In the searing airless midsummer-
Clockwork morning rewinds
cobalt into a bleeding orange yolk dripping across
the canvas of the world.

Sky, turn the colour of dreams. Heart, turn the colour of love-
I’m posed over a skyscraper
Because I wanted to touch the stars. Because I wanted to touch you.
There’s a beauty found in the smallest spaces
Gaps in your heartbeat, getting your toothbrush mixed with mine
Honey-lemon on my tongue

So maybe you loved me, but not in a way I comprehended
I’m thinking of your lips, your eyes
and the way you said goodbye-
The word wrapped around your tongue like a prayer.
Pink bleeds into violet and it looks like the 5 a.m. Berlin skyline
might tear itself apart, like a heart bursting or a car crash.

So it’s dawn. So I’m inconsolable.
And if the angel sun sets,
then so be it.

It’s childlike, yes, but it’s not without meaning.
Perhaps that’s the way it expresses itself.
It’s emotional, yes, but it’s not without strength.
Perhaps the cork has come loose.
It’s stubborn, yes, but it’s not without willingness.
Perhaps it simply gets caught in itself.
It’s messy, yes, but it’s not without beauty.
Perhaps it finds comfort in chaos.
It’s stoic, yes, but it’s not without empathy.
Perhaps it is afraid of revealing itself.
It’s a dreamer, yes, but it’s not without drive.
Perhaps it’s inspired by the clouds.
It’s a perfectionist, yes, but it’s not without humanity.
Perhaps it is afraid of disappointing itself.
It’s angry, yes, but it’s not without reason.
Perhaps it doesn’t understand what’s around it.
It’s anxious, yes, but it’s not without cognizance.
Perhaps I’m working towards peace.