[ roselin/ ]

summer has faded. it's remnants

of life were in the cinnamon fire

of the autumn leaves and the

ocean blue m e l a n c h o l y

but i can see it in your eyes. it's

the way the stars sing melodies, of

watermelon indie and

lemonade jazz on a summer day.

the halcyon lullabies in your eyes,

warmth in the blue melancholy.

the autumn leaves in your eyes,

the endless falling and breaking

and burning

and the pretty sunsets, in the

blue melancholy

the lights on the ferris wheel

shine like flickers of the sun, the

color of the ichor in your veins.

the ferris wheel risesandyourhair

washes against the wind

like waves.

the ferris wheel is a

constellation and

we are its stars.

are you afraid? you speak softly,

fingers twisting with mine

until they become tangled vines,

twisting over the skin of space

time and

brushing over the night air

threaded, with stars

no. (i'm not scared because i'm

terrified. i can't breathe and i

think my heart would have

stopped if you hadn't been

by my side.)

lean on me. you speak quietly but

with the power and the enigma of

the prussian blue night sky and the

astronomical quietude of orion

and cassiopeia

behind your words.

with the force of moons and rings

of space dust and planets colliding

and blooming into nebulas to

form new worlds

you draw closer to me and i hope

you can't hear the sound of my

heartbeat pounding through the

hollow chamber between my ribs.

your slender hands wrap around

my shoulders and you hold me

like i'm your everything. but i

hope i'm not because i'm nothing

but a skeleton boy with rotting

bones and ribs intertwined with

withered wildflowers and the

scent of loneliness.

because, loving me is deadly.

but you are astronomical, and i've

always loved the stars.

you are an arcadia lost with the

forgotten child you used to be

wandering the streets but still

holding the blue blue blueblue

night in your eyes.

the starlit whiskey and the rings of

ocean and cosmos and shredded

galaxies collapsing into the

nebulas that the poets write about

you're the kind of girl that they

write songs about, the girl of

bruised universes and skin

and heart and vessels and

arteries of tender blue and yellow

the girl who took stars from the

sky and painted them over

her bruises to create seas of stars,

( and scars)

we're so close and faraway, as far

as a nebula and as close as

home (which is as distant

as yesterday)

the gray sidewalk zooms further

away. i lean on you.

we watch the gray world that

will soon gleam like white bones.

as we get higher i close my eyes

i wouldn't think of falling.

but i am falling. both of us. we're

falling, like the autumn leaves

that withered, like the winter

snow that will fade away.

we're fleeting like a mayfly, living

in the moments that feel

like dreams but dreams always

break, dreams that made the

found lost searching for answers

that i want to find too.

i close my eyes and it's as if we're

the only ones in the world. as the

world tips and turns

and s p i n

and the ground beneath us flips

side ways

your fingers dance along my cold

neck like summer raindrops

and for a moment more fleeting

than us i'm not afraid anymore.

open your eyes. you whisper,

the city is beautiful tonight.

the darkness behind my eyelids lift

and i watch you as the city flashes

past reflected in your eyes.

you stare at the lights and the cars

driving by like shooting stars.

you watch the city and i watch you

like we're the only people in the

world, like we have all the time in

the world even if forever is only a

moment for us

we both know it. we rushed into it

too fast and now we're falling at

the speed of light. our destruction

will turn universes into ruin. but

you're so beautiful, my rose.

so beautiful that the poet in me

can't stay away.

🌠🌙🌃