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

The Light Starts To Dim

4/7/16

Fingers intertwined,
smiling eyes,
and goofy grins.

My gaze wanders over you
while we lie down on our sides—
your lips,
blushing cheeks,
and your precious emerald eyes
with drooping lids—
they sparkle in the golden afternoon light
I could stare at you for hours.
Time moves more slowly
when I’m with you.

I’m loving you
and I could never stop
as long as we stay
right here.

Suddenly the clock stops ticking.
The room swirls with my head.
The gold stops turning into gray.
My emotions are irrevocable
and
now I’m kissing you.

Again,
again,
again,
again,
again.

The moment
clings onto
the dust-covered walls.

I feel you smile
and my heart
beats out of my chest.

I notice the shadows
becoming
less prominent
on the walls
and
the afternoon light
starts to dim.

I hear you grin
in the now dark room.
I rest my head on your chest.
I can hear your heartbeat—
slow and soothing
and the warmth of your body.

The moonlight
illuminates our faces
with a silver incandescence.

Something switches
from passion to comfort
when you stroke the hair out of my face.

And I fall asleep
seeing silver and gold
swirl behind my eyelids.


This post was revised by my creative writing class at the University of The Arts.