Someone Tell Me I Survived
you’re not the one leaving me
it’s just that this summer has turned
its back on us
yesterday
we were chasing each other on
gravel,
the rocks nicking our feet
through the thin fabric of
flimsy sandals
small
jagged
cadavers
scattered across
opaque
glass,
and when our wrists collided,
I saw
two
copper
coins
coalescing
today
I wandered outside
dragged my heels
against the skin of
the road,
the sun
hanging on a pole,
tell me I survived
someone
tell me I survived
loving you
this–
saffron leather pearl freckles
mauve eyeliner sangria raisin
liquorice taffy sunflower shard,
in no particular order
just this, just this
cherry balm dainty petals
the ache, the want
the something
I could never have
imagine this, imagine
you walk into the water
limpid satin
the beach, the sea
evanescent,
and you’re afraid you’ll make it worse if
you swallow this dry
the urge, the wait
you tried and you’re tired
his eyes, his voice
aurora,
and all you can say is
love, lover
don’t you know
that I would cut myself in half
dig two graves,
and lie in them both
just to say
that I died next to you?
but you don’t,
not really
your nose is
under the water;
your mouth
has drowned.
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