Young & Beautiful

I dream you’re carrying lemons in the hammock of your shirt — it’s summer and the trees are breathing out. You look invincible and fleeting all at once.

The youth of your lines intoxicate me. Your shoulders drip gold, and when I call your name, you laugh. The sound doesn’t split the sky open, but I can’t help but to hold my breath. I can’t help but to wait.

Nothing more happens. You stand there, cradling the lemons in the white of your shirt. It is a Polaroid of a moment that never really happened. A memory of your beauty that is true, but never existed.

And I will keep finding you in all the realms I create, and when I wake I’ll tell you, “Lemons. No, this time apples. Actually this time Los Angeles, and you had wings. Your hands were covered in blood. On a boat, once or twice, under a big blue moon. You looked invincible and fleeting all at once. God, how I loved you, and God, how I do.

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