i can see my breath
but it's the middle of July
and the sky is the colour of nectarines
and you're nowhere in sight.
i can't rea-
i can't read the letter you left
the ink smudged and dripping
down my face.
birds sing in the sycamore
branches sway
or maybe that's me
i know nothing but saltwater
in this desert of suburban aesthetic
i cry with desperation
and my heart deflates silently.
come back
and watch the grey sky with me
for you were simply
a silhouette amongst shadows.
