Attraction

My soul is some combination of frivolity and summer

She is winter and rebellion, dark chocolate brownies and chewing gum in class

We are twin moons that will never touch

The sky is our home, but it wasn’t made for us

We are windswept hair and candy necklace crushes

She reads and breathes and hums

It all sounds like poetry

Just without the longing or heartbreak or tortuous ending

Like Brönte decided not to burn the house down

We are letters signed in aliases, an author’s last manuscript

Hidden and rough around the edges

But sweet and timid and secretive

We are the best blackberry bushes

Coveted by flocks of bunnies and majestic deer

She is something like leather skirts worn in all weather

And vacant apologies, flippant farewells

Polarizing appositives

We’ll meet again, just not here

But someday, when the clouds reach out to us and the sun praises us just for waking up

We will stand at the top of that mountain and throw care and class to the wind