Out · of · the · Blue

the day you died they plucked grapes from small green plants
they said that it was going to be hot outside, for days,
on end.

the newspaper headlines were impressive and loud when they said that
love had conquered the world,
and no one would ever be able to escape.

hot tiles burned my feet as I played outside,
dancing free because mostly,
carelessness still ruled me.

I remember how, as I sat at your bed
you exhaled your very last breath
my hands touched your face because you were still warm.

you could’ve easily just wanted another grape,
I realized.

I didn’t understand
at the time.

why I'd never eat a grape again
or dance carefree in the sun
when I held you tightly afterwards
and cried uncontrollably on your arm.

that day you died.

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