crisscross

whispers, beckoning into invisible arms, huddled. vicious, violent sobs-viscous breathing.

inky black, reaped from your heart. And so I reach for your heart.

whispers, "i love you."
eyelids close. 
 

 My eyes focus on the hyper, golden creature. It is much smaller than the elves and seems to be female. She flutters around me with her wings, her golden dress cut short on her thighs. Fairies. 

Hailing petals and bowing to the arched branches,
mouthful of spring air.

Grass creeps up their legs as they sit in the sun.

The pockets of her jeans carry the foil of chocolate kisses, his carry old purple Post-it notes.

We were made for the gods, for petty entertainment.
We were made for the gods, we fight their battles. 

They will laugh their shallow laughs,
watch in amusement of our blood baths. 

Do you think

there will ever

be a time

where 

kisses on cheeks,

blowing out birthday candles

and

desks pushed together

will make us say

Remember the pandemic?