Hikikomoriin

it was a day of cold rain

when i first met you

and the razor-sharp tilt of your smirk.

with your warm warm warm hands pressed into the small of my back

chasing away the chill of the drab world around me-

you slipped me your number

and i felt the indents in the paper that you left

sitting innocently upon my skin; oh,

was i enamoured

with the poise with which you held yourself and

the danger that thrummed through your veins, transferring like lightning sparks

to me

when your fingertips 

touched mine

and it was like a brilliant spill of colours upon the grey canvas of my life,

addictive.

now

i count the days of life 

in the categories of ‘before you’ and

‘after you’-

and the me that exists after the solar flare of your

heated touch

is singed at the edges,

different in all the right ways-

happier light;

whilst i may have tried once to iron out the crumples you left in the fabric of my skin

now

i am simply and

utterly,

falling.

and when you leave

(because all colours fade and this too,

will fade)

i will be at aphelion-

stuck between worlds and

i don’t know, wouldn’t know how to begin rubbing out he hues of blue red purple you have stained me with and-

i am not quite sure

that i’d want to.