When the sun hides behind
the moon and hope
withers like lilies of the
valley, death settling low
like fog on a spring
morning
What will you leave
in your wake, violent swells
of the past assuaged by
nothing but a faint presence,
perfume lingering on
the sea breeze
Will you leave me
suffocating in the cold space
of an empty queen bed, a black hole
in my head where you go to die
twice. I am the earth without a sun,
forgetting the color of the sea.
On Mondays, I think your eyes
were blue. On Tuesdays, green,
I’m sure. In my mind, they are
always looking back at me
Cheyenne Oliver is an emerging writer from Charlotte, NC. They received an MFA from Queens University of Charlotte, and their work appears in Winthrop University's Anthology Their genre of choice is Poetry.
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