to stay there deciphering
meaning according to the
seasons of our hearts.
We made ropes out of poetry
to swing across tall trees,
like we were ape-twins from
a previous life.
We exchanged recipes
for disaster,
we brew storms in teacups,
cooked misery, and dined on
fantasies that were
garnished in existentialism.
We played hide and seek
in philosophies and
practiced kickboxing with
delusions.
That way we hit it off well,
Not gonna lie.
We perfected the art of
capturing moonlight in a
a palm full of water to
freeze it in metaphors.
We stuck at the heart of
fate to crystallize ourselves
'time' that wasn't meant for us.
We were briefly infinite.
But good things end,
and great things end with
big exit wounds.
They take away a good
chunk of flesh to
hurt all at once.
But pain was never
unfamiliar to us both.
So I did what you would
have done.
I learned to nurse it in
rosewater. I made paper
planes out of it.
I toned it, shaped it.
Messed around in other
ways and painted it in red.
But pain is pain.
It never fails to hail.
And when it does, I bite
my tongue to taste an
imaginary cherry in your
loving memory-
The sweetness bolsters
my delusions and
yet again, I become this
person who still checks
the rearview mirror,
even after the road has
run out of its journey.