r-assignment [4]
The other day, I
accidentally
spilled moonlight on
the shadows
where you used to
sleep.
I almost cleaned it
up
until I realized it
didn’t matter anymore.
I told the clouds
they were not
welcome to shed tears
over your side of the
bed,
that the rain had to
drown me too.
I asked the sunset if
it ever missed the
sun,
if vermillion meant
farewell,
if the dusky purples
hurt
when they were
pressed,
if the coming
darkness
felt as natural and
as effortless
as it looked.
And when the night
finally fell
in black oblivion
I found the light you
left
in the corners of the
room,
under the pillow,
in the spaces between
my fingers.
I found it everywhere
in the darkness
and nowhere in the
daylight
and I hate you for
that –
Which is why I
started
making room for the
moon in my bed
even though he
bleaches the sheets.
And I let the clouds
lay down their burden
gently, gently over
your pillow
in place of my own.
I stopped asking the
sunset questions
that I couldn’t
answer
and started digging
my hands
into the gracefulness
of the sky and the ocean and
everything in between.
everything in between.
Written on Friday, October 18, 2013 at 10:46 PM
by twentyxfragments