POETRY

the true meaning of love is

when the sun will creep it's way into all your pores, filling you with beams of gold every time you see them—spreading well-needed veneer over your harsh wooden skin.

when stardust will glaze down your freckled cheeks like molasses, while your vision will flick across the azure sky. your mind is stuck on the thought of them looking up at the winter snow and smiling, while your voice hums into the misted air.

when strawberry jam runs through your veins from the sugary affair and you learn to love the way the rain drags your two body's together. the way every time you look at them, colors melt down their lips and the only feeling you can muster up is gratefulness.

when the flowers they bought you had died, but you keep a few petals to remind you of the way they smell. even when no one else could care enough, your shaky hands grab the phone and call them and they understand that you just want to hear them talk.

and when you finally decide to end the only happy thing you've had—they'll nod and tell you that it's okay. that they still understand and they love you so so much—for one last time.