Fades like breath

Soon we will not notice the dark afternoons,
or how the sun is never here when we need her.
I twist my awkward limbs towards light,
but I want nothing more profoundly
than to forget that my skin seeks this nourishment.

If you’d only known how many nights I faded,
watched my mother search our ceilings for answers.
Knowing she didn’t know what more she could do,
so I sunk home each night and glowed from the light of my laptop
until I existed as a mismatch of words scribbled in a notebook.

Suddenly I understood the melancholy of boredom,
how we had survived for this long loving each other silently.
And when winter closed down our capacity to communicate,
we cupped our hands around candles and prayed for one other.
Because I’d been clinging to past shadows like breath until it all dissolved
and I couldn't see the shine in your eyes.