crepuscular

as soon as i spoke your name into existence

you evaporated in the same breath,

condensated on the windows of my heart

and left them ajar.

i can feel the ice from your mouth

slap me across the face

until it turns to water from the warmth of my blotted cheeks,

making the windowpanes weep.

i keep holding back the sunlight

because the conversations heal me

but there’s only so many words i can use when painting my skin to hide purple bruise.

i’ve been bathing under moonlit speech for one too many nights

and now my fingers are wrinkled like fossil

hoping to be gazed upon like the one at my local zoo.

yes, time is not real

but i have to be able to distinguish between healing and changing,

the black and the white

exchanging and rearranging.

it’s time to let the light in

so bright that it burns my eyes

and brings new vision,

so strong that it fills the void

brunette boys couldn’t.

so warm that it dries all the raindrops,

send them back to default

and give me a new source of food.

 

help me grow,

 

help me bloom.