Petrichor

A Poem by Katie Kistler

baby, it sounds sweeter when it comes from you
a better flavor, savored if you just don’t chew
and man, she always hit the nail on the head
bit the lemon just to watch my eyes turn red

but this is the build up to the slo-mo slowdance in the dark
the perfect snow untrodden in your favorite park
the butterfly kisses when you’re six years old
flying on the rusting swingset til you’re bored

you’re the feeling of nostalgia though we’re not that old
the feeling I can’t bottle and could never hold
intangible as any word upon your tongue
so whatever it is I always say it’s love

cause this is the dream I never had because I’d always wake
spacing out and trying to discern the way
reality is here for now but slips away
in the moment I would ever want it just to stay

so the slippery little details in my fumbling hands
come out harsh and overly exposed like I can’t dance
around anything to save my life
but that’s just the facts

God help me, I’m clinically blunt enough to hurt
like every wound you’ve ever had rubbed in the dirt
and if I tell you that you’re pretty one more f*****g time
but you’re so pretty sometimes it could almost make me cry

so I’ll tell you it’s love
and you know it’s true
but is that nuanced enough
for the mystery of you?
cause you’re complex and I don’t always know what to do