I always think about your eyes
the first time we met.
They were shining like the ocean,
cerulean clear,
a soft breeze carrying away
the clouds.
You shivered in my presence
and when I asked why,
you said you were afraid.
Were you afraid of the
quick beats of your heart,
the way they felt in your chest?
A new sensation breaking through
a thunderous storm of contentment.
I was hot.
Heat burned through my veins,
impulsive and mean,
harsh and strong,
I needed help to heal the burns left behind.
You were cold.
Frozen and still,
gentle snow resting on a wooden roof
in December,
wishing on a star that rode through the indigo sky
as if it has always been yours.
To me,
all of the stars look like you,
bursts of light in the darkness,
appearing and
disappearing
in the same instant.
Through the fire and the rain,
I thought we would escape the war
of smoke and frost.
With all the tears, all the pain
I thought we would make it past
the pale blue ghosts shifting
from place to place,
beneath the summertime silhouette,
hidden from the sandy shore.
I always think about your eyes
the first time we met.
And how far we’ve come.
And how quickly all of our time has
gone.