I can clearly recall the sand running between my fingers. It was cold, the fog rolling over the solidified mountains along the coast. The wind drew through my long hair, blowing brown waves clashing with those sinking onto the shore.
The sun remained concealed for the longest time, rarely making an appearance, if none at all.
"I would never do that. Over you telling me how you feel? Cmon Lonnie."
I would read that occasionally. A wonder, how we pretend neither exist when we once held such importance to the idea of the other. I suppose this is why the rose remained as long as it had because I willed it so. Maye would frown at me whenever I mentioned your name, though. Her expression contorted, and my voice faded away.
"He doesn't have a name, why should he?"
In all honesty, you don't, I simply gave you one. The gift of a name, I suppose, which you had been rather grateful for. In retrospect, when I told you mine, I had not received the same enthusiasm I had relinquished onto you. The clouds that followed your surprised anguish were quite troublesome, words spilling out that never intended to meet the surface.
The waves continued to dance as I pushed myself away. The calming aura relinquished, leaving a bitter cold that sunk to the ground.
It is in the frame above the sink in the kitchen, mockingly so.
I wonder what would happen if I tossed it out the window.
Maye cleaned up the glass the next day, scolding me for my stupidity. I scolded her back, "Justice is not irrefutable, therefore I am not."
She remained quiet for the rest of the afternoon.
YOU ARE READING
Colors Behind the Glass ✓
Poetry[COMPLETED] Lonnie has been through several life-changing events. The most impactful is the death of their abuelita and the loss of someone close to them as they came out as non-binary. They have struggled with coming to terms with these two facts...
