Dawn or Dusk

I prefer aurora hues over the royal blue rolling off your tongue. The pinks of your mourning breath was least heartbreaking compared to the poison you drowned in. The showers that felt like suicide, the lagging phone calls; counting how many stars reminded me of you. Insisting you sleep at her home instead of crawling in and out of bed, I admitted to fancying the yellow lies from you rather than the deep purple infatuation set on her lips. The midnight bubble baths held in my lungs reminded me less of suffocating than you did; and they called it puppy love.