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Description
She's talking about buying a space
not far from her school; somewhere in the city,
nothing too nice. "Just a place," she whispers
to the fluffiest dandelions, careful not
to stir the delicate seeds - it's almost
as though she's sugar-coating her musings,
afraid she will upset them. "Just a place
to exist in, somewhere for the dogs
and maybe a cat - a little flat. One room."

She isn't here for long; as the thought passes
through each part of my comprehension, a sigh
from deep within my bones escapes - one room.
She had been speaking to the weeds but meant
for me to hear every syllable - the way
"one room" swept like fresh breeze from her throat
I knew she spoke as if to caress me
with this idea - one room, our room, one space
of 'ours' to exist in. The violet hour.

She leans forward to turn her face up to me,
alerted by my silence, and I stay in it -
I cannot read her. I focus on her palm
on my thigh, I focus on the ladybug
content upon her knee, bent up to her chest.
I think about how I miss the warmth
of her bare back against my shirt
and how I want to pull her back to me.
Her eyes stray away from my avoidant face
and settle on something far - maybe the road
at the edge of the hayfield is what makes
that light in her expression become cold.
The stone sitting heavily in my stomach
hopes it's the reality of her leaving
rather than my aversion that has chased
the smile from her lips, her skin, her eyes.

The influence of my tug brings her back
to be enveloped, as I am the cocoon -
I want to help her enter the next stage,
I want to be a protagonist in her
next chapter she writes - I want her in mine.

I whisper to her loose hair separating
my lips from her collar bone, careful
not to stir her insecurities.
"We need a yard for our dogs."

Description
She's talking about buying a space
not far from her school; somewhere in the city,
nothing too nice. "Just a place," she whispers
to the fluffiest dandelions, careful not
to stir the delicate seeds - it's almost
as though she's sugar-coating her musings,
afraid she will upset them. "Just a place
to exist in, somewhere for the dogs
and maybe a cat - a little flat. One room."

She isn't here for long; as the thought passes
through each part of my comprehension, a sigh
from deep within my bones escapes - one room.
She had been speaking to the weeds but meant
for me to hear every syllable - the way
"one room" swept like fresh breeze from her throat
I knew she spoke as if to caress me
with this idea - one room, our room, one space
of 'ours' to exist in. The violet hour.

She leans forward to turn her face up to me,
alerted by my silence, and I stay in it -
I cannot read her. I focus on her palm
on my thigh, I focus on the ladybug
content upon her knee, bent up to her chest.
I think about how I miss the warmth
of her bare back against my shirt
and how I want to pull her back to me.
Her eyes stray away from my avoidant face
and settle on something far - maybe the road
at the edge of the hayfield is what makes
that light in her expression become cold.
The stone sitting heavily in my stomach
hopes it's the reality of her leaving
rather than my aversion that has chased
the smile from her lips, her skin, her eyes.

The influence of my tug brings her back
to be enveloped, as I am the cocoon -
I want to help her enter the next stage,
I want to be a protagonist in her
next chapter she writes - I want her in mine.

I whisper to her loose hair separating
my lips from her collar bone, careful
not to stir her insecurities.
"We need a yard for our dogs."