by Kiarra Palmer

The sky paints the picture of a salty goodbye kiss,
the red projected from the sun shows the world
how bloodshot eyes can be a beautiful tragedy.
Different shades of pink floating behind the trees
look like his lips when he closed his eyes,
and told me to drive safe.

The blue fades into colors that sound like love and pain.
The song playing through the car radio reminds me,
reminds me of the first time he said, ‘I love you.’
The next reminds me of the top level of a parking garage,
where he held my hand in his and smiled at the lowering sun,
nodding his head to the music, drinking from my cup of lemonade.

When the sky begins to lie down,
the world squints atand the burning light in adoration,
and I caught myself looking at you how others
look at the resting sun. With adoration,
but also with anger, because I can never fully
open my eyes and let you overtake my being.

The clouds move to form new friendships, new love,
new beginnings, new stories, and new pain.
The pigments of the Heavens pave the road of change.
Limbs on trees glide in the air like fountain pens,
all simultaneously writing the next chapter
of the Earth’s autobiography.

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