You were dragonflies in my ears, 

wings fluttering with your fears,

but still, “Let’s soar,” you said.

And we swam through the sunset’s reds.

How many colors streamed down my face 

when you kissed me in outer space?

A watercolor of emotions 

on a canvas made of oceans.

 

I saw dragonflies in my dreams,

crawling out of my sofa’s seams.

Their gentle legs tickled my skin

as they tiptoed up to my chin.

Those dragonflies were a crunchy treat

and, like you, they tasted quite sweet.

I woke to you holding me in your sleep

and held my breath so you wouldn’t hear me weep.

 

There are dead dragonflies in my bed

outlining the shape of your head.

My eyes are seething storm clouds 

and the thunder of mourning is fucking loud.

Lightning strikes after I smoke

and I scream in the rain ‘til I’m soaked.

And then –what’s that?– maybe I’m just high

but through my tears I think I glimpse a dragonfly.