I figure life is just a series of before’s and after’s.

she was a before- 

Me before had bright eyes and a wildfire of shiny hair

Fizzling enough to get her to even look at me

before, when she burst into my life,

too good to be true

before, when my heart stopped beating in a back corridor 

and her lips restarted the rhythm in my chest 

double speed.

Her hands scalded mine alone,

mine to ashes.

She picked my crumbled heart up off the floor 

where it lay

next to her T-shirt and my skinny jeans;

no means of movement in the blistering present.

I prayed that she would take it

or else put it back in my gaping chest.

but burnt hands, scarred, tough hands, 

crush down around it until blood streams 

and drowns us

after all.

after all, there must be an after.

blue skin, purple lips

numb fingers trace lines through smoky sand.

the barren beach spills into waterlogged hair 

as the sun goes down over the football field

setting the sky ablaze 

His hands are icy like he knows his

lips are robotic as they clang against mine,

his screws and scraps chipping frozen armor.

I close my eyes, shaking and sadder than I’ve ever been

because skin has never fit around 

my freezing bones this badly.