To commit to memory

I used to look away too many times in case I got hurt by
The sight of rosy blotches of joy on your face, or the terrifying clarity
When our eyes meet, or worse still, the shadows by your side
Drawing out smiles that I am only receiving in fallout, in your side glance,
Catching it in cupped hands like feathers of fungus below the canopy
Of trees that the rain has travelled all the way down to meet.
As with someone who knows they are taking something that does
Not belong to them, I can only watch without touching.
Worst still, I look away from the length of dark asphalt between us,

The plummet into the early morning darkness distorting distance
Making things seem closer than they are. You already seem so far away,
How much further are you? My already feeble courage shrinks
Before the dark puddles and swimming galaxies I must wade

Through, waist deep and enough to fill my lungs wet
With despair. Only a child believes that when their favourite character
Dies, looking away will save them, averting your gaze will
Undo reality because obviously reality only exists in the daylight,
Where your eyes can see, and the worst only happens
In my imagination. This fear only takes hold of children by their
Tiny collars and forced them to swallow their tears. I have outgrown
playgrounds long ago, why do I still squeeze my eyes shut?
Does it ease my faltering heart? In truth, we relinquish our vision
To focus on the feeling, savour its outline with my tongue,
The grooves of my teeth or the shards when my chest clenches in
Pain. My mouth is full of sand or diamonds, any dust from sandpapering
Melancholy into a smooth glass I can swallow.

I looked away too many times. Now, to make up for turning my eyes
Away, I must properly face you again, repaid with interest.
Study every flickering gaze, burn the daylight reality into the shadows
Behind my eyes, into my imagination, where I do not see stars.

So, turn this way. Show me the brilliance when I face you head on.
Cut me free from the grim thoughts and let me step into your light so that
Every crease on your grin I can feel it through my finger tips, every darting
Shadow I can search for in your gaze, and every small telling sign
I will no longer misunderstand. Turn this way and
Look at me,
Properly, for me
To commit to memory.