smooth

i remember the day you told me
about nothing

and every hour after that was a reprieve

the blue of your eyes
never looked like the sky
or even the ocean

when asked

you called it light azure
thinking yourself witty

but i knew it as aquamarine
all cool and hard and ridiculously
slippery

the kind of surface

you can’t
stop touching

.

.

.

.

A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

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