Sunday, October 27, 2013

eleven months

I’m thinking of eleven months of colors I fell in love with and all of the numbers I deemed lucky 
And I’m counting every rock it took you to teach me how to skip them right
I wanted to photograph you naked 
I wanted to teach you how to find light in the small things I see
I wanted to be the boat on your sea while you whispered infinity into my ear 
You taught me how to feel beautiful stripped down to my I can barely breathe with these bones weighing so heavily in my chest 
And god you’re my favorite shade of Lake Michigan grey on a below zero morning
I’m thinking of showing you the mountain top stars in Arizona 
And I’m thinking of the predatory wasp and why you never met my mother and how much I wish you had
I’m thinking of two fingers down my throat to show exactly what it’s like when being alone means I no longer have you










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