I wish I had the talent to paint you all the skies we never got to lay under
but there are too many skies we missed
and are missing
it was broad daylight when you kissed me first
not sure what I was expecting when you touched me
your hand didn’t feel like silk
and that was the moment I knew it was something real
and real was so refreshing
like the air on the night you picked me up and drove me to look at the stars reflected in the lake
I stretched up my arms to grab them
but you caught my hands before I could reach
pulled me to you and taught me new ways to touch the sky
we were young gods that night
the air was so bitter but the menthols were so fresh
we watched as the magic from our fingers funneled through the filters and released itself in the glory of a manmade scarlet starlight.
and I asked to use your lighter because it worked against the wind
but I really just wanted to feel your hand when you gave it to me
warm, as always.
warm, real, skin.
But your hands are not flint
Your blood is not butane
And when I run my thumb up and down yours
Sparks don’t fly up to your eyes anymore
Like the way they did when I would smile at you from the passenger side
I wonder if those memories make you feel something anymore
I wonder if you raise your arms to the sky and weep when there are no stars left to grab
not because they left
but because you chain smoked them before you knew they’d burn out
the days of love being defined by the incidental shapes made by the cigarette smoke
have been silhouetted by sterling silver
beautiful and so damn cold
i should have known the night would be day again soon enough
the sunlight is so unforgiving
and the sky is not a series
it is one absolute
there is only one sky.
there is only one you.
and i will never have the talent to illuminate you with all of those colors.