Night and Day

day:

the sun glistens off a dewy glow of skin, porous like a sponge she drinks me in. the clouds embrace your figure casting a dainty silhouette across a golden and green field of grassy stems and dirt, you are bright and light and lasting... just bright enough to hurt. the sound of horns beeping, and buzzing “open” lights illuminating store front windows as the sun is fading below the horizon of a pink and orange sky line, she will leave soon.

night:

stars speckled across a black sky, like the color of the eyes i stare into. a crescent in the sky smiles down on me, it is midnight and the only ghosts i’m worried to see are the ones inside of me. my fingers shake, my legs fall asleep. sitting with my legs crossed and head pressed against a window while i watch the smoke cascade out of my lips and float in the air above us. everything is closed, we will sit at this corner until i can’t anymore. the bass eats the speakers, white noise.

day:

my eyes open and i can not see sunlight but i know it is there. a warm body next to mine, this is familiarity. the deep breaths and slight nose whistle every few inhales, the random clicks and clanks that ring out through our basement kingdom. a sea of thoughts, you are asleep although the day shines bright through our dingy window right outside our doorway. my stomach growls and i am discontent. i think about the things that twist my stomach, you snore lightly.

night:

fogged windows of my car, tired sighs, no clothes. i swore i hated the feeling of another body

against mine but for some reason i felt like this would be better than the rest. a streetlight that flips, on and off, on and off. my head hitting the roof, every time catching me off guard. you are looking at me, and i do not like it.

day:

i’ve brushed my teeth at least 4 times, i showered twice. i itched the layers of my skin repeatedly until narrow lines shaped like the ends of my finger nails left physical representation of the agitation growing in my nerves. sweatshirt, sweat pants, hair up, sleep. just sleep. i am looking up at the ceiling and the sounds of snores and breathing seem to be echoing in my head. the ticking of 10 watches off-time press into my brain. tick tick tick tock, tick, tock, tick tick, tock. grumbling of my stomach and quiet tears staining a tan pillow case. pressing my body against hers, but i can not feel her there.

night:

“kiss me like this is the last time you will ever see me.” he kisses my lips but can’t continue. crying. consoling. deciding. i say, “i don’t love you. i never loved you.” i close my eyes, this is real. he leaves his smell on her pillows so i always wash the sheets.

day:

i haven’t seen the sunlight for days now. “we have to talk.”

they are like night and day.

separate beings, completely different creatures. her eyes have a heart of amber that spills out into a pool of green algae and clear springs. his eyes are stones beneath a flowing clear river.

his lips taste like music, and hers taste like poetry.

her hair waves into a cascade of chestnuts and honey, his hair falls in his face reflecting silver in streetlights.

his hands are hesitant and new, hers are rough and passionate.

i lived in the shadows for so long you would think i’d be accustomed to the darkness by now. i’m not. i have lost my light, my light discovered my desire for the night.

my eyes need time to adjust.