Imagine this
You’re running,
Sprinting,
Hand-in-hand,
With a lover,
Whose lips smell like honey and taste like June.
You keep running,
Just to trip and hit the ground,
Breaking into millions of pieces,
Melting back into unison
Closer than ever before,
Starting and ending with the entirety of them,
No space in between to question the collision.
No space for air.
It reminds you of fireworks,
Over lakes upstate in the summer,
Where your whole family would sit and watch from rusting beach chairs,
While fireflies would dance,
And you would celebrate an explosion,
Clapping for pretty bombs
You think of this when they hold you,
With hands as warm and as that thick, as that summer air at your cabin,
Brushing back their hair from their eyes that remind you of the lake,
And not because they’re blue,
But because you almost drown in that water when you were 7
Keep imagining
You’re still running,
Sprinting.
Hand-in-hand with a lover that looks a lot like you
You fall to the ground,
Scattered into pieces,
Rising again in unison with the fragments of them,
Picking up pieces of them like lost treasure,
Like fragments of those pretty bombs that rain around the lake,
Finding that they fit perfectly in your voids,
The ones that formed when you almost drown when you were 7,
Imagine this
You look at your feet,
Where the fireflies sleep,
And find peace in the ground beneath you
You can stop sprinting