[ the boy's pov ]

there is an emptiness in this house
as i climb up the

to
(you)
s
   t
     a
        i ↖(me)
           r
              s

i-cant-feel-the-presence-of-a-parent-here

your bedroom is a box of welkin
faded periwinkle (winkle-winkle-winkle) domes
cracked gray clouds distributed unevenly
over the (em-em-em) empyrean walls
all peeling and rusting and
imperfectly beautiful all the same (unlike me)

the polaroids are scattered over the wall in the shape of

g     
         e            i

              m
      n

                 i


you've drawn neon lined lines
connecting each photograph
in chronological order
i see your face as a child
a face that no longer belongs to the broken girl you are
but of a young nymph with onyx hair streamed with sunlight

the polaroids are barely alive
they fade a little everyday (like me)
little by little they kill your memory
"they will never stop haunting you"
is a lie
and your memories will always fade
along with the polaroid

(perhaps i'm a fading polaroid)

another wall is marked with paintings
canvases bursting with neon subway lights
held by saucer wide eyes
in the frozen moonlight
i see dancing cigarette smoke
and feverish lust-infected eyes
smoky gray eyes of someone you used to love
of heartscreaming affairs among the rooftops far above

the ceiling is covered with the chilled explosions
of indigo dynamite
scarlet clouds of mist embracing
shattered silver stars screaming scorching sensations
(silver-stars-silver-stars-sil-sil-si-si-si-si-silver-silver-stars)

beautiful.

beautiful.

when i look you in the eye i enter a new world
of obsidian ponds sparkling with neon cerulean flecks
of blue
blue blue
   blue blue
      blue blue blue blu-blu-blue

"you have a cool bedroom"

"thank you"

your smile is a perfect curve
of a faintly glowing crescent moon
your eyes are soft with a
terrible sadness eating up the corners of your irises

i stare at you and record your every movement in the notes of my mind

· you tell alexa to play the piano song we heard on the rooftop the other day

· you tell me to sit on your bed as you move yourself to the desk by your window

· you hum softly to yourself and i feel waves of ecstasy spill over the oblivion within my mind

· your sketchpad remains in a permanent position in your lap, and you brush your fingers over the faded blue cover every once in a while

· your eyelashes move like butterfly wings, as delicate as violin strings

· you tilt your head as you work on your homework as i work on (or am supposed to be working on) touching up the project

as you doodle on the squared rule paper of your math homework
i sketch you with strings of broken phrases

violin notes

midnight... whisky sky... cobalt blue blue blue

onyx periwinkle
wonderland... constellations in the anchor sky

you are music to my eyes

"so what do you do in your free time?" you say softly

...charcoal willow threads dusting over math equations

"i... i play the piano and i write poetry..."

you look up softly
your gaze feels like spring kissing my skin

...polaroids and paintings pasted over periwinkle welkin walls

"my..."

i see pain
flash in your eyes
before your ivylined facade covers the stray emotions

"my mother used to play piano... my... father... built a greenhouse in the forest for her because there wasn't any space in this house. he put our piano there for her. she'd- she'd go there everyday a-and play, after work. o-often- she'd stay in the forest for the whole day on sunday,"

your voice quivers like an earthquake

we didn't need words. i looked you in the eye and you understood that i understood. and your eyes softened like butter melting away under a july sun

"i want to show you..."