beckoned.

like last year, the way she loved me on the grass
in need of a cut
soon
the mosquitoes will bite us
and you will not care
and i will scratch my own skin until
it breaks
and soon you will love me
the way i think i love you
i love you the way she thinks i do
and soon the sky will turn a deeper blue
until we call it black
for ease
and you're blue until i call you grey
until you call yourself grey
because blue is too beautiful
too heavy on your face
thin
skin stretched
pulled into the space
pulled out from your flesh
i have you in my hand
your blue
your grey
colors of unloved words
colors of unloved skin.