you.

Skies the hour after sunset oddly feel a lot like you. The clouds above, they break like hearts and tear like play-doh souls when hands of yours get near.

I picture people see this drowning. Baby blue to teal to black – tomorrow isn’t real just yet and like us two it might not be.

You coloured me those shades of absence with your voice. And I don’t blame you.

Everyday I made the choice to hopscotch at the edge of cliffs while only knowing how to fall

and notice: when the sun is falling skies stay still in one same spot.

You’re everywhere that I am not.