heat stroke

By: Anna Schmeer

wet grass
we are living on borrowed time
the green of spring will soon fade to browns
struggling to breathe and blaming it on allergies
blood is pulsing through my veins and my fingertips
this isn’t my bathroom floor this is real life
there is no second chance

it hasn’t been the same since you left
the scent of your cologne is still imprisoned in my mind
your favorite song still on the radio
i’ll always be reminded of you
there is no story left to tell
no happy ending
we flew too close to the sun
and let the wax drip down our backs

a single light is on
your silhouette still lingering
but mine has already gone
spinning out of orbit
the streetlights have yet to turn on
but it is so, so dark
the sprinklers on the grass
cars in driveways
but they don’t know
none of it ever matters

the more i think about it the less real it becomes
i’m pretending not to be devastated
but it’s written all over my face
and i know that a piece of you is still with me
the way you avoid me so ardently
as if i had cursed you
but it is you

it has always been you
you were the curse, the knife, and the flame
you were the sleepless nights and the restless mornings
you were the problem and the attempted solution
it was you
there is never a good moment to say goodbye
and now is no different
but i have to try
if i don’t it will never happen
i have to try and i will fail
i always do

the grass is sticking to my feet and will not come off
lone pieces stranded upon my toes
forcing me to remember that i have walked through the lawn