The memory of you sends a chill
coursing through my spine, strong
like the breeze
of hurricanes that make blades of
grass
curtesy toward the slow dimming
sunlight.
The grass is a reminder of damp-
ness that surrounds us, even if
we go.
I chose to leave that night, when
the breeze
was so sharp you heard the
screams of grass
as they are forced to the ground.
Your light
shined on me as you watched me
leave damp
footprints on your lawn - that's
where you'll go
when you long to see me. It's the
chill
you feel when you see the spot of
grass
where our lips first locked and
parted. Light
from your window always hits the
damp
space to remind you why I must
go.
It's hard to think when the only
chill
between us was the slight breeze
of the summer we shared with
moonlight.
But instead, our memories are
damp-
ned by our harsh words. I let you
go
so you can enjoy the taste of
chill-
ed drinks on a hot day with the
breeze
blowing through your veins. To
feel the grass
between your toes and savor the
damp
footprints of those free from
deceit. Go
find yourself among the winds
that chill
you down to the bone. That’s
where the breeze
will remind you that you were the
grass
And I was the hurricane. The
light
in my hurricane was meant to go
and take you by storm, making the
chill
of my light the last standing.
Your breeze
let me in and you became the
grass
willfully curtseying toward my
light.
Your light has gone, and your
soul left damp.
