petals fall slowly

 At

sixteen, I left a fruitless orchard

for a spiritual cloud closer to the

sun. 

We were young then;

kissing under the stars,

flying down hills covered

in dandelions.

Hot pink petals falling softly

as we kissed in plaid steamy dimness

that belonged to us.

Stuffing friends in car trunks,

clothes flying off at yellow lights,

wet hair dusting almond sheets —

but collisions of

flight

forced

me

to fall

slowly —

like a frisbee trapped in

wind.

My heart is still the one that cracked in high school.

When did our souls forget

that we need the embrace 

of another human to be okay?

That scars are permanent?

This poem was originally written in 2017.