01

"i think you are enormously important in my life."

"but we just met an hour ago."

"it's so warm when you're here. i've never felt so warm."

"because it's summer, silly." your laugh is dry against my hazy breath.

"kiss me. kiss me and you'll be written into the stars upon my lips."

[...]

[because i'm cosmic.]

you sink yourself into the motel mattress like a prayer lost in translation, your body pliant beneath my spine, and your fingers tangle in my curls as if they are rosary beads, as if there is salvation woven between each strand. you map my shoulders down to my chest with your fingertips like you are heading south when the sun comes up, like you are tracing a path out of this world.

"if i'm so important... worship me."

"but... i am a child of god."

"so you are loved by him?"

"of course. i mean, i'd like to believe i am." if i knew where my fingertips ended and your lips began, i'd be the marlboro you smoke on the nights that stretch into forever.

"but not enough to save you, am i right?"

you're somewhat fever-sick, and i blame it for your sickening words.

"i love your eyes."

"don't say that."

"why not?" you chuckle, your head arching deeper into the mattress, dissolving into the sheets like a fever dream i'll wake from too soon.

"because..." my color is green. you are summer. remember. my color is green. you are the summer. "because you're a poem, and i— a mad woman."

"so i am your lover?"

"of course. i'm only ever happy when i'm with you."

"what makes you say that?"

"i say weird stuff, and you understand me."

[i'm a flower-child and you smell like the cherry stems from the garden. your love feels like running barefoot across juniper grass and your madness—i know it too well, for i have seen it in myself one too many times. i will drink too much coffee and smoke too many cigarettes and love you too much. love you too much until i am sick by the harbor on a tuesday morning. i will listen to the radio on the way home and associate every song with your name until you are immortalized. i will tie red ribbons around my throat and down my ribs until you say i'm yours.]

and in my dying breath, if you ask me where i would go, i'd tell you i've only ever felt alive when i was with you. i'd tell you that i've said that to all my past lovers, thought i meant it every time—until this very moment.

i'd ask you to love me anyway.

"you are loved by my body and soul."

"whisper it into my ears like i'm going to forget it."

[be the temper that breaks my china cups. be the subtle ache in my chest. be my lover for the summer.]

[...]

[be my lover for the summer...]

[...forever.]