When you miss me look for me in the meadow where we named our white daisies blue, where you plucked trebles from birdsong and composed music for the wind, where we watched wishing stones in the stream sparkle in the moonlight. I will be there till you no longer come looking for me.
As if I needed a reason to leave the porchlight on for you to come looking for me beneath the Bougainville planter next to the bottom porch step where I buried my heart along with the house keys and place me in the locket resting above your heart which is the only place I know as somewhere I belong.
Yellow Trailing Daisies appear when Summer ends, bringing along with itna wistful feeling.
This one is for Summer.
Just one hour left to release my breath my subdued wild heartbeats that starved all summer for the lemon peels in your skin and the water mint in your sighs. Just one hour left one that isn’t easy as they think with the time not hungry as I am for the midnight jasmines in your hair.
I was too empty for words. The truth is, the sword I kept in my tongue to deflect only the sentences that betray me, beheaded, even my carefully scripted texts at the turnstiles of my throat. So I am taking this rain you have left for me to redeem at least my empty eyes.
Keep it a secret that your eyes are my favourite books and the crinkles at the edges are left by my fingertips that cannot stop turning their pages over and over again to read the endless new stories they dream for us everyday.
Everytime I think of you the fingerprints you left on my skin rise up into the air forming glowing inkblots of a Rorschach Test that I always describe as shapes of the wounds I caused when I was being mean. I wish instead for once they resemble the constellation you named after me when you hid it in my soul.
Is it too much to hope that the ivy you gave me would someday grow into a shrine? Is it foolish to believe that the nectarine pit in your heart would someday grow into an orchard? Perhaps I should keep waiting for that someday when you would turn around and nod at me in the affirmative.
When I miss him I wear his gold toned Seiko Watch that he left for me. It’s cold metal grafts his skincells into my wrist and it’s heartbeats sing Daddy’s little girl in morse code along with my heart and my tears dry on their own.