i am not what i once was, on these fresh days of a new season, chasing darling dappled dreams of sometime-soon sunlight where winterwoes slide balefully behind in the wake of my renewal. i slip sideways behind the sky and into your widening eyes, where the horizons of our dimmer days bleed slowly through the cracks between my fingers and your silhouette and we tumble back to where we once began thousands of years before, when the world was ours and ours alone and our bare feet left feathery marks across the surface of the sun. you coaxed me out of my star-shy youth into recreating the universe with my flutterwords and i gave you poetic license over the wind and rain, rendered tongue-tied by the deftness of your lightning fingertips and the way you whispered my name as though it were something sacred, elemental as ashes of a stolen summer’s secrets.
here we fall again as the world jerks with the early synapses of life and i’m ready for you to fool me, darling, with your april whims, paper flowers and cardboard stars that have stolen the hearts of other girls whose half-light murmurs and dizzy dreams stumbled over the footprints i dropped around you. throughout bitter nights of winter freeze i hugged my insides close and coveted my lip-locked reticence, praying you’d be back one day with my name still dripping from your loosened lips. i am not who i meant to be, but so few of us ever are when december ices stingingly our withered hearts and grays the blues of my summer eyes.
[this is your chance, love; your one final attempt at flight across my cloud-skittered sky. i stand with bare toes curled around the edges of my fading youth and pray that God sees fit to have you waiting with unencumbered arms for the moment at which i learn to trust the wind.]

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