in summer venus kisses itself goodbye and i'm too tired to blink, too tired to breathe; your name somehow manages to escape my red raw lips nonetheless.
you wouldn't believe me if i told you i had more pictures of you on my wall, than stars in the sky and i wouldn't believe me either if i wasn't the one who had to drown my kidneys in hot liquor just to forget the colour of your eyes for a cold minute and a half.
i dance in warm silk, earplugs dangling from my neck, a song you used to sing to me in summer after we'd drive into the sun with butter pecan gelato between our teeth and sugar pollen between our eyelashes.
they say summer is the best days of our lives, but it's a shame it only lasts a summer when you can no longer feel the familiarity of sun and lips on your skin. i sometimes (always) dream of you with frost on my sheets and snowflakes between my ribs.
how i wish summer could have lasted forever.
