Yellow

Stark flowers

Left white on graying lines

The petals don’t match

And we don’t like the same leaves.

We rose

Preparing to spring

You to Jan,

Me to December

Both cold, distant places

Poles of our similar seasons

Distinguishable to none.

Did I say we rose?

For yes, we rose.

But left only one.

I lazily flicked it away

But it came crawling back up my finger

I watched as it circled my nail.

It runs when I follow,

Creeps back when I turn away.

Why do yellow-blooded creatures remind me of you?

But there was my bubble

Glinting in the afternoon sun.

It was now.

It was my turn to leave.