Scattered

I am most comfortable on rainy days when I write your name over and over covering the windowpane. I know the storm you are and it has leaked outward and now it is my own. No broken hinges or apologies. You were never anything but yourself with me.

I am not accustomed to the strangeness of my skin that's bereft without you beside me. My hands do not know what to make of this strange heat that comes from an unknown source. I sit in the window to cool as the moon skinny dips on my face, I am reminded of the fullness of your mouth. And I hunger for a little of the summer we first met before everything scattered, and we got lost like toys that don't belong to grown ups anymore.


6/25/2017