for.ever

summer skies and torn clouds
seams separating, and i was hoping so much that the blue would glimmer through.
but it seems there are too many layers to allow me a gaze into obscurity.

when it broke in two,
it became
for.ever.

holding hands, a grasp slightly too tight,
when the tips of my fingers turn white,
and my knuckles fill with blood.

when it broke in two,
it became
for.ever.

pulling away from the car door,
slamming it in your face, while the dew still hangs on our
lips and shoes
and drips.

when it broke in two,
it became
for.ever.