neon splotches of purple and blue and red and pink filled the air as the sky turned a dark navy [i wish i could see the stars - cut through all of this light pollution and see them once and for all].
the wind held a cool edge and if you looked closely you could see little plums of condensation falling from chapped lips made from licking away cotton candy and salty tears [if you looked closely, you could see your pale skin and blue veins grasping for a sensation that might not even be real - something like fireworks in your fingertips or butterflies in your stomach].
i tried over and over to write a love story [our love story, the one we made and - i thought - continue to make] but at this point it would be better for me to write an ancient love story [one of abandoned amusement parks or rusted old playgrounds - rather than the one playing in my head of fairs filled with bright blinding smiles and colorful lights, of cliche ferris wheel rides and sweet kisses in the moonlight].
if i asked you what love meant to you [if i asked you to write a love story], would it be ancient and rusted like the parks we visited as kids? or would it be bright and wild like the moment we had right before i realized that not all melodies made under the moon were forever? the moment i realized i had always loved you but i wasn't sure - no, i was pretty sure of the opposite at this point - that you'd always loved me?
YOU ARE READING
a year full of life
Poetrya collection of uncategorized poems from the year 2020. some are from various poetry prompt lists on instagram.
