What a beautiful thing
it was to have loved
the light in you.
It was a kaleidoscopic
tempest: crystalline fragments
of shattered glass
breaking against the hardwood floor
in a crescendo of
iridescence.
The remnants
of opals left to
glimmer unassumingly
on top of clovers in the
early morning are nothing more
than its distorted reflection
in a river during the rain.
If there was ever
an equivalent
to watching you wilt,
it is the incessant
torture
of your cold hands seizing
everything I want to say
and rearranging my words
into your name.
I’m only here because
you preferred oblivion.
My throat hasn’t stopped hurting
for fifteen months,
six letters scratching it raw
whenever I even
think of them.
Kate Bishop is currently a freshman at The University of Michigan, originally from Leland, MI. She has a passion for art in all its forms, especially poetry, photography, and the acoustic guitar.