Somewhere on the edge of summer

By Kailah Figueroa

my horoscope says that “ambivalence is no longer an option”

i was so close / to leaving the leftover matter / to alleviate & translate / 

to force you into strangerhood                                    again.

it’s almost the end of summer & autumn awakes with wide warm arms,

thunderstorms & fluorescent lightning / it’s lesser-loved companion.

all the memories devour me whole                            again.

i don’t want to be big & brave & conjure up everything i am too scared to be.

i want to diffuse the details / a kind of flashlight love / ever-blinking & yours

to live blurry & unapologetically with no remorse.

i want the lake, the early june sunrise & the delicacy of mindless fingertips.

bare-faced / self-regeneration / a prayer to a future of movement & moonlight

where i’m no longer hoarding the hurt in diary entries & audio messages.

i was trying to live through your lens, your light eyes, trying to

be the dream,              the girl,                        the prevalent place you always 

come back to,                              faithfully & without valor.

sometimes we dream of disappearance,

like it's some kind of freedom from ourselves.

but the remains always stay

with us & our heavy hearts.

i used to illuminate  / be voracious for affection, 

always waiting to envelope up the love for someone

more deserving than myself,              the dream,                   the girl.

where all my after-hours confessions’ subject matter is blurred by unholy lake water,

a burning sun where there’s no skin to touch / waiting to see a reflection of myself,

where i’m no longer waiting to see you in it.

now i sever the lost moments / rewrite the mind / & no longer believe 

in the religion of passive recovery / that these daydreams are premonitions. 

i don’t revisit the messages / i don’t keep my mind present in the past. 

instead, i write a sonnet for a new season, for thick sweaters & colder evenings. 

for a new love-interest to enter the script. / one that’s been here all along, 

catching glimpses of her in department store windows & passenger side reflections.

now, no longer stagnant in this period of transition, & wishing

that every ounce i gave will come back to me             again.

Kailah Figueroa is a writer, activist and the founding Editor-in-Chief of Mid-Heaven Magazine. You can find her work in HomologyLit, Anti-Heroin Chic, or on Instagram and Twitter @Kailahfigueroa.