The Vacillator

A description of my love style.

The Vacillator

 

To me, you are the sun

Regal and radiant

Kissing my skin

Granting me life

Until you are not

Until I don’t like the way your rays graze this side of my face

Until my sleeves starts to feel too thick

And my eyes feel stung by bees

And I do not want to fully see you anymore

I curse myself for not dressing appropriately for a day this hot

 

Now you are no longer that buttery fist of light

But a fluorescent nuisance

I hurry back inside

I smell my sweat and wrinkle my nose

At that acrid human stench 

And scrub it off furiously

Wondering why I even went outside today

 

But in due time

On an indigo morning I’ll see you peak over the horizon

And marvel at how you’ll paint the sky 

Bubblegum and marmalade

I’ll lay myself out on my balcony

And wait excitedly for that warm glow

Of another sun