m i s t a k e s

In the right light,
on a broken road in
a doubtful night, I'd have
let you believe our hands
kept the world in a machine,
where you could keep it,
meticulous, running in a circle.

And in that circle, the paths
cracked, while you saw sweetness,
porcelain eyes and smiles
while they waved and we
were running. Two legs
we tied together, on the street
and in your hair.

I saw a child in your eyes
through blissful unaware, though
they ran on your freckles, the
tears kept you so pure. But then,
where were the rivets birthed?
The streams erode the land, it
made your heart and feet old.
How far you've strayed from
our imperfect circle.

I know you saw stars
when you closed your eyes.
You cut them out on your lids
when no one was looking, and
that came easy- it's all they ever did.
You used a star you'd found in the road
as the stencil, and now you can see
with that star, as lonely as you are.

In the right light,
they're as radiant as you felt, sitting and
rarely breathing, just above the ground
in a summer that came but held itself
around you. Never felt it on your skin.