Poetry

sunglow

I was standing at the bottom of the beacon,
Phone in my hand, fingers frozen to the bone,
And the sky was clouded, bitter and cruel,
Like sunlight had forgotten how to exist,
Just for a little while, just for a bit.

I had cast those delicate dayglow rays aside,
Scattered the bones of them amongst the graves,
Because the thing about suns is that they burn up,
Inevitably, impossibly, and then –
They burn you up with them, leaving only a shadow,
Something once there, now gone, a husk of something good.

I was standing at the bottom of the beacon,
Phone in my hand, cheeks blushed red from cold,
And maybe the sky was clear, maybe the grey was all there was,
Like sunlight was something I’d just imagined,
Like I’d made you up inside my head.

I had built lampposts in empty cemeteries,
And I had spewed words in eulogy for a passing I’d never witnessed,
And I think together we’d burnt up our sun,
This fragile thing that existed in one dimension only,
If you look at it too closely it’ll blind you,
Leaving you forever in the dark.

I was standing at the bottom of the beacon,
Phone in my hand, the heels of my feet aching from walking,
And I realised I didn’t love you the way I thought I did,
And that maybe I never had,
And that maybe the sunlight was reflected,
And that maybe I had been the moon,
Floating in space waiting for you to warm me,
When really, that’s not what I wanted at all –
Unless it was.

Our shadows had overlapped once, you realise,
And perhaps that had meant something more than it should have,
And that’s okay,
Because even ships in the night find comfort in the silent passing of foggy light,
So when I tell you I was standing at the bottom of the beacon,
My hood pulled up and my knuckles cracked,
I’m just telling you about a moment when I realised,
That it’s really easy to fall when you’re apart,
And goddamn,
It’s like being smothered when you realise,
You’ve made up a life, made up a soul,
And as close as the hidden sun is to me,
Is as close as I want you now,
And I’m sorry for that,
For you, and for myself,
Because nothing hurts more,
Than actually seeing somebody for the first time.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *