Poetry from april

the moments we gather are steeped

in shared giggles and bright bursts of bright belly‑laugh joy.

More vast than the sands of every beach ever known,

we hold them to our chests as the waves

steady, inevitable as they rise and crash around us.

These are the days that shape us, the soft, sun‑warmed seconds that become our story. What a privilege it is to walk this shoreline together,

four hearts exploring the world, hand in hand. Collecting memories as endless as the tide.

And when the light fades low and evening paints the sea in gold,

In the balls of my fists

I tell myself that it’s normal to get older

And see less peach sky before dusk

That holding on to these things

only ages you faster, further

I tell myself that the bugs are fewer but I am still watching

anything else would be cruel to myself

I never thought growing up would happen to me

I thought I would be forever 3

My finger prints turn into moths

In the scene of the moon

Pale against the loss of light

My lips parted- tulips bloom

Holding onto the perfume of your

Decorated skin

Every laid down darling

Sips the sin from the lips of terrible men

Driving along the patchwork, calico streets

Drenched in creamcicle orange light

Dewey strawberry afternoons melding into

A wash of sunset and lilac perfumed air

Watercolor daydreams flooding by my car window

I never cease to hope for periwinkle still frames

Lighting up a drive as a burst of paint flung in the way of a porch ceiling, sky blue

Hydrangea hoping for coffee grounds

A Bluet stained yard

Your eyes in the side view mirror

Like painful thistle fields

Broken hearted Autumns

You throw up and keep going

Gliding in the glowing lights of a shitty fucking day

In the somber way I do