slow this down.

this weather
reminds me of you,
these grey monotone weeks
between spring and summer,
the kind of weather
i really can’t stand-
it’s so uncertain, so shaky,
it’s all rain/shine
like were you were all red light/green light
that first night;

and all the nights afterward,
your bed unmade so we slept on the floor,
the window propped open to bring in
fresh wet air
to cover the scent of sex and copper and cigarettes;

i helped you find your hips
beneath layers of denim and skin
and sent you away from me
dancing.