Golden Hues

5/2/16
I hold onto the edges of the rainbow
Especially
the color in between the blue and green
because that’s the color of your eyes.

I grasp the rain drops within my fists
And put them inside my pockets
With my spare change and crumpled up
Gum wrappers

I take a mental picture of the
Sky that’s
On fire
And how it lights up the
Golden hues
In your dark hair

I pinch together the thoughts
Of endless
Fascination

And I find it
Hard
To let go of
the rapid beating
of my heart
And the
Thoughts that
Won’t shut off
Even when I am
imagining
the light-switch on my
yellowing
white walls.

The golden hue of
Your hair
And the colors
Of the sky
And my goddamn
Wet gum wrappers
Fit the mood
Of irrelevancy,
Of love,
Of infatuation…

The swift movement
Of your long,
Dark
Hair.

Amethyst and Flowers on the Table

An image: A morose girl sits and waits for her lover.

An image: The lover walks over to the girl, with a bent posture; looking at the floor.

An image: the girl glances with wide eyes, almost toward the ceiling; longingly.

An image: the girl’s thoughts wander to the lilacs they always had on their kitchen table in their first apartment together; she thinks about the way they dried out and died but still looked beautiful, even as the water dried out of the vase.

An image: His thoughts wander to the girl and why she was always killing those damn flowers, even though the fragrance always choked him.

An image: Purple. Her favorite color and the color of all her favorite flowers.

An image: Her lips, frozen in the winter. Purple.

An image: Amethyst that she always kept on the table, broken from a geode. Purple.

An image: the red wine that stained her favorite white shirt from laughing so hard she spewed it all over the table. Purple. She misses laughing so hard her shoulders shake and she doubles over, falling to the floor in drunken joy.

Images, images, images. Purple.

Lilacs, amethyst geodes, those blue and red popsicles kids suck on in the Summer. Purple.

Her favorite color. His favorite sweatshirt. Purple.

The colors of her favorite Spring sunset. Purple.

Lilacs, lavender, lust. Purple.

Amethyst and flowers. Purple.

Her last love letter signed with a heart.

Purple.

Death With Dignity– lyrics by Sufjan Stevens

Nostalgia

Nostalgia. What a funny word. Nostalgia: a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. I think it’s funny because I can feel nostalgic for a moment that isn’t yet in the past. Nor does it have to be a happy association. I can feel nostalgia for the people who’ve hurt me so bad I feel like I’m running through mud after them. I can feel nostalgia for June 2nd, 2014: The (no longer since) happiest day of my life. I can even feel nostalgia for all of last May — when things were starting to look up, but was still the lowest I’ve ever felt. I can feel nostalgia for the time when I couldn’t feel anything at all. I can feel nostalgia when I’m on the beach after all this, running in my underwear out to the ocean and hoping it can hear my laughter and see me smile. All of these moments are indescribable. A fleeting second in my life, yes, but the memories will live on. Nostalgia is a word in which you feel sad for feeling happy. And I’m not sure whether that’s painful or beautiful or depressing. Maybe all of the above.