#makimura miki

fall of angels

all you remember of her is bright flashing lights

       neon green glittering against her pink tresses

and you remember your breath catching in your throat

you remember her back in front of you, sharp shoulders

       drawn too tight, head held too high, cold air stealing

their way out of the soft curve of her pretty lips in the winter

you remember her hand gripping yours so tightly you thought

       you could feel the pulse of her heartbeat dripping into your veins

you thought your chest was going to explode, dynamite pricking your skin

she tells you to remember her in all her best moments, eyes red

       breath harried, hair mussed up, fingers trembling and shoulders

shaking. there are too many variables unaccounted for and you can’t think

she asks you to run, lips curling up in a smile, age eight and

       young and innocent and it’s pink hair curled next to a black mess

tiny fingers intertwined and there’s a forgotten baton lying at your feet together

you bypass her on a glaring summer morning when her white shirt

       blended into the sight of an empty track before you; she trails up

behind you, palm fitting into the small of your back, and her praise thrills you

your best friend, same name and same age and same school and

       as you’re running for the last time you abruptly realize you’ve never

known anything without her in it, without her tear stained cheeks and laughter

and she’s the only color splattered against the dark night sky you look up at

       from the rooftop with your brother. he asked you what you saw in

the skies once, and you saw her, and you said you saw a future.

tonight, you remember her as she yelled for you to run, face streaked

       with blood so dark it’s the color of her hair and you’re running, running

away from the only person you’ve ever loved with your whole heart.