Above the clouds is the space for restless minds,
And after each beat of their wings, you kiss me.
Pearls fall from our mouths when we breathe.

But the day you left was not yesterday –
The ice-cream-scoop hollow in the back of my throat remains,
Or so I tell myself, to exist.

In my fingertips, there is a fire.
Has it never scorched you, lying in your bare skin between my knees?
You smile, and in the corners of your mouth rests every wanton promise.

The air carries a scent of lemon;
The soap you used in my apartment sits heavy in my mind.
Wherever I walk, the grass turns to ash and drifts away.

Only in the rain, now, is there a hand against my cheek,
When ripples still lace together across the surface of the lake
And from the stars, I turn my face to the side.

– Kaitlin Schaal