Snow falls before Spring.  

Ice laughs amidst freezing air:

the sky’s confetti.



Or torn love letters,  

once smuggled under pillow.

Now bitter on tongue.

I still don’t know the color of your eyes
They go from gray to green to blue
You like cold showers and clear skies
And I like crawling into you

I get so caught up in the endless sea
I don’t notice when my lips turn blue
The psychedelics take over me
My fingertips numb from touching you

A violet girl with tangerine dreams
Can’t ever pull off those shades of blue
My tired blue boy in baby blue jeans
I almost dyed for you

Why is the couple on the subway holding hands? You pondered while looking at them with a scowl.

Merely because they were honest to each other in all ways you couldn’t think of.

Silly as it seems that was the way they found love and that was the way they kept love.

The same way you try your hardest to lie to yourself believing a passion so strong at first sight isn’t real they tried their hardest to believe it was.

The way they locked eyes the moment they saw each other and felt the glistening of a true sunrise in their heart threatening to bring the light into a dim world that you were stuck in.

These were barely adults, not from my time, they didn't know the ways of the world as I have, how could they believe in such illogical things.

They were born into a time of animation while you monotony but that's no excuse to act like you're better than the children of now. They’ve had their hardships as well as you but the way they handled their problems led them here. On the subway. Holding hands.

Pretty little flowers dance
in their garden green

I pluck a few to form a crown
befitting of a Queen

It brings a smile to her face,
her features so serene,

‘Tis no doubt within my mind
she is the fairest to be seen . . .

There was something about him
Every time my eyes closed
He was there with his goofy smile.

There was something about him
That drew me towards him
Like a child to sweets.

There was something about him
That made me hear his voice
And see his face each day.

And because
There was something about him
I could never forget him.

Never...

the putrid smell of cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey breath feels like home.
           His arms felt like home, too.
      I knew him as the boy who’d party all night and make plans with me the next day only to sleep the whole time.
              I knew him as ****** noses from ******* and the young emphysemic cough that would **** a small part of me every time I heard it.
     I knew him as that big, stupid ******* smile.
I knew him as the boy who’d ride his bike to my house but would always be too worn out to ride his bike with me.
          I knew him as far too charming for his own good.
I knew him as perfectly imperfect.
       I know him as cold and unempathetic.
I know him as the boy who refused to get on the phone with me for closure.
     I know him as unstable.
I know him as manipulative.
      I know myself as someone who will never be more important than *******.
I know myself as someone who will never be more important than cigarettes.
     I know myself as just another doll who was tossed to the side by a child who got bored.
     The fetor of a coffin nail and the acidic aroma of Highlands Red still reminds me of him—
                 but only the version of him that I knew.