an hour long drive

being with you 

it felt like the fabric of my life was

shifting constantly and migrating 

from wrapped around a warm body 

to tumbling roughly in a shaky dryer

the hue shifts red, blue, then green 

the color of your brown eyes 

on that one afternoon 

i swore i could have relived for eons. 

it smelled of linen, 

of the inside of your hotboxed car, 

of the movie theater we had all to ourselves. 

i pressed life up to my face, 

eyes and nose and cheeks 

soaking in the wild bliss of it all 

not realizing how lucky i was 

and yet feeling it with utmost intensity. 

strobing rainbows in weaved patterns 

followed me everywhere 

even when i was cold, naked, and raw. 

you and the new life i had, 

both unapologetically moving forward 

in the name of beauty, 

in the name of one day becoming something 

even more extraordinary than you are 

you had to leave me, 

of course you did. we are seventeen 

and i guess that means it has to end. 

the color has to sink down into the fiber 

and forget it once was bright at all 

held in my hopeful hands. 

perhaps when held by another, 

not one so ripe and ready to create stories 

that you thought you could not fulfill. 

ill fold you up when if have to, 

but for now ill just sleep with the quilt we made 

with hours of sore lips and giggled secrets, 

drunken hopes and sober confirmations, 

roadmaps drawn with the hope 

that you would take me as i am.