the sun screams
i hear it because it brought me here
i have no place on this stage
her world is one of paradoxes —
i am not subjected to breaths.
i am obligated to be happy for her
but cautious of my laughter. mornings
are warm with blood — red anger
light seeps its way in, unwelcomed.
she takes pride in blooming daffodils, ignoring the
way roots pry open their jaws for water.

i can only take in the sunlight when it’s diluted
it’s only beautiful in neon, wilting hours,
only bearable in a distance.
is it love if it destroys my very being? do the
phantom attempts count?
when i found something that matters
she tarnished it, and i, under sweltering heat,
had to wait for the moon to smile
to be able to blossom.