maybe it's because the sun outshines the stars

you asked me why there is night.  everyone seems to fear the inky darkness, so why on earth would god have made something so dreaded?  was it to remind us we were mortal and that blood can turn acidic, or was it simply a case of too many long hours combined with a penchant for vodka?

‘because without night, the sun cannot shine for others on the other side of the world.’

everything made sense in the ephemeral lightning shooting through your cola irises.

-

I’ve forgotten what it is to be cold.  the sun has been so dominant that my memory can’t formulate shivers or blue lips.  it’s not that I wish to bathe myself in winter, but disconcertion swells in my ribs as I fear something I don’t remember.

-

your eyelashes were like small wings and you were about to take flight.

‘Caitlin, the world is amazing.’

I did.  I knew a lot of things.  I knew that ironically enough, connotation had definition and I knew that nothing works in a perfect rotation.

‘is that so?’

you stood on top of my roof and watched as the clouds languorously walked over the sky.  I was going to tell you that if you were to fall, you would smash every bone fourteen years of growth had made, but I decided against it as your smile was refusing to falter.

I’d never seen you so happy.

-

the weather man said it’d rain.

‘but surfers beware, more than a slight drizzle could tarnish your fun today’ he had said, and then moved onto a different city as if he’d grown bored with our forecast.

I denied his promises though.  I had taken you to the beach that day because I knew how mesmerizing the starfish in rock puddles were to you.  in my resistance to conform with the decisions of the heavens, I had even walked past the umbrellas, hanging shamelessly near the front door.

‘come on sweetie, let’s trace footprints of other people who’s life we can only guess at.’

you furrowed your brows and tried to comprehend what my tongue was verbalising.  in my velocity I had forgotten that you were only six and didn’t care much for anything but the present.

‘I mean lets make imprints in the sand.’

you chuckled and the breeze slowed.  I never made sense to you.

-

summer wasn’t a season.  no, it wasn’t even a measurement of time.  it was the melting of ice-creams, the useless foundation crawling down laughing faces in the perspiring heat.

‘I love you, Caitlin.’

summer was your breath, trailing in the air.