the storm was always waiting
in steel bruise colors hanging
on the cusp of July
obscuring the lines between
the horizon
and I
didn\'t smell the coming rain
but rather cast her shadows
on my tongue like dreams
of drowning gulping grief
on it\'s knees inhaling copper
swallowed bleeding heavy
lead like in my chest
for the shallow love of lungs
we could never grow the gills
always inhaling doubt and flailing
this wretched oxygen
and I
needed breath beneath the flood
they made mockeries of our thunder
shaking stones from our foundation
cut us up in pieces with her
ribbons of jagged light
whose burning wire would rend
the skies separate into schisms
unmendable lies of memories
beaten by her stoning stars
until I could not remember
what stars were ever good for
when our tidal waves collide
smudge the edges of you
and I
swore by July colors hanging
on the corners of your eyelids
never smelled the coming rain
and you already lashing
at the surface leaves for air
too aching late for bones that whimper
of the storms that simmer there
where we are edgeless water
kicking feet at lightning
I always hoped that I could float
enough for you
and I