In memory of young love
Fairylights and a Van Gogh poster,
You said kissing in my room meant kissing ‘under the stars’.
Now we’re packed tight in my single bed,
Lying like matches in a box,
Or the last two cigarettes in your pack.
Artificial starlight, now artificial moonlight,
The soft blue silhouette of your body against my alarm clock.
Smooth edges and crisp lines.
Angel wing shoulder blades, and unruly black curls.
And me, awake.
My college student body clock
And your new 9to5 job,
My weeks of 4am, black coffee assignments
And your parade of midday clients,
Your deep sleep breath,
And my acute fear of transience.
And the two of us in bed,