cold chai and contradictory lines

I climbed this hill, this time last summer.




(i write a lot of love poems about no-one. this is one of them).

the day i spent with you was like memories,
as captivating as the day it was painted
with fingerprints and intentional imperfections,
and opposite lines to divide our hands.

in the scheme of things we look like we were patched together
with undefined insights, and a question mark,
with tired brush strokes, and saddened afterthought.
painted together in a late blue period,
between the renaissance and the age of reason.

behind the subtle shades of expectation,
an artist has drawn you back to me.
an illogical placement of colors falls together,
and our faces are drawn out with contradictory lines.