Apollo’s light dripped onto my shoulders
Staining me in gold
Blue like your irises
Blue like my frozen lips
Don’t say I love you
Before you can taste the vinegar
Taste the honey
Taste the oatmeal in the morning
How Mom would always make it
I love you is drenched in the milk and oats
Of yesterday and now
But now and tomorrow may taste like the coffee
She will make for you to wake
There was a time where I couldn’t differentiate one reality from another
This is from a better reality
I promise you
The days I spent grabbing you and holding you mold together in a way that is sinful. I should’ve been more gentle with how loud my thoughts could be, but you knew so little about your own divinity I could’ve taken it for myself. I almost wish I did.
But I had to find the right strain that would satisfy my own voice, my own blindness when the doctors said everything was okay. You are okay. I am okay. We are not okay.
We are melting and crushing next to used up lightbulbs that flew from our lamps when we left the window open on windy days and newspaper clippings Grandma sent us in the mail with the small note, every time.
I need to call Grandma. We haven’t called. But you would be proud of me. I promise you.
You have small cuts all over your fingers. Love handles you attempt to adore. Bright eyes that cup you together and people see that. People see you. You were so desperate to be seen by someone when you couldn’t even distinguish who you were looking for when you sat in front of your mirror.
She is calling me, telling me the pin pricking that settles in my chest every morning will one day leave.
Look at yourself. You’ll see me soon.