I caught you standing at my back gate.

You were staring at the daffodils
with a mist across your face. A kind of blankness
that was crisp and unforgiving.
You staggered toward me, laden with gloom,
and I caught you, limply,
in my arms.

We were sitting on the back porch
only ten steps later, the grey sky making way
for a fragile sunset.
I poured two glasses of red wine,
crossed my legs at the ankles,
and asked you about your day,
all the while pressing my fingers tight to the edges of my glass
to keep them from quivering.

You tucked your hair behind your ear
and gave an all-consuming smile. It could be said
that you were holding the universe stretched between
two soft lips and a row of shiny teeth.
You looked to the hourglass sky above our heads,
and I knew you saw much more than clouds and stars,
and the desolate sun as it fell beneath the Earth.

We counted stars, drew shapes in the clouds.
You hummed under your breath. Told me
about the fear you sometimes had of the sky falling
and never going back up quite right.
I wanted to say that that’s the feeling I get when
I look at you. Like someone has reassembled the galaxy,
piece by piece. Snatched up every star,
traced new constellations, dimmed the sun
and brightened the moon.

We sat until the silence was
buzzing in our ears.
Your head rested on my shoulder, tears staining your cheeks,
and I listened to the air as it swallowed up your sorrow.

You stood abruptly at a quarter to ten and
said a shaky goodbye.
Already, I felt so raw. I watched you
walk away, arms outstretched, as though you were floating:
a trembling angel on a Friday night. I kissed the air where you had stood,
and then your shadow faded down the sidewalk.

You left me with only the tears dripping down my neck:
whether they were yours or mine,
I couldn’t say.

I still taste those cotton candy clouds, the sharp sugar
on your breath, the kiss I never
received. I think of your hair, glossy like a magazine cover,
rising in the August breeze, and the midnight blue
of your dewy eyes. I remember your tear-throttled voice,
husky and hopeful, sending shivers down my spine.

That is all my mind could hold of that midsummer night,
so I paint in the rest.
I fill in the blanks so that when I think of you,
late at night, I can live out those moments
in full color every time.