I still see you, Goddess— halcyon gold—
in your white evening grown, and my heart was all over the place.
Your eyes were all my eyes knew— I was a fixed satellite.
I wanted to watch over you, like how moon watches over sun,
like mother kisses daughter,
like lovers hold lovers.
I wanted to tangle your gold hair
into a bad mess because you were too much of beautiful
and I wasn't sure I could have you.
Out of boring walks and sexy small talks,
we met in bitter coffees that had forgotten sugar.
Your touch was like Mother's, was like the warmth
I never really got to know, and there wasn't anything better
than the comfort of knowing you were mine.
You left pecks on my dry lips,
and if I was your Superman like you said I was,
I'd want nothing more than to just lie on the bed
and listen to you breathe, and I want you to hold my hand like
I'm a young kid afraid to cross a road because
it's scary. It's scary without you, babe.
You told me: Darling, it's fine,
I'll always be here.
I was right to stop smiling at those words.
We were over before we even begun, and we
were meant to part when you told me that.
I didn't take to heart
the thing I feel in my breath, so
you took my heart.
It was my fault.
I sit on benches in parks. I hated parks—
you loved them. That was besides the point, but
I remember your puffy cheeks when you tell me you're bored,
the way your hair steals wind like a conman, and how
I always thought your satin hands would be
scraped by my gravel ones.
And I'm still sorry.
You used to tell me I'd crash and burn without you,
but we never lived our lives like we should. I lived yours
like you lived mine, so I guess I was the one who
crashed and burnt you.
I'm sorry I didn't pay attention when I was driving.
I had forgotten to drop you off where I should have,
because you were— are— too beautiful. I was selfish,
like you've always known, so I didn't want
to let you go.
It's that stiffening sound again.
It always suffocates. It's the sound of my waking,
and the sound of you not breathing.