Fuchsia Summer Nights

Anonymous / POETRY

Illuminated, glowing pink girl. Vivid hyperbole night.

Faded heavens on the ceiling,

The setting was oh so imperfect.

I’ll never forget her

Mouthing “Lady Gaga,” the keyboard clacking,

And the drowsy boredom, my mind racking.

Only winter’s edge would one day

Tell the truth of

Fuchsia summer night innocence.

She began

By dancing, noodle-like in form—that ethereally,

Giggly girl—and etched herself

Onto that damned Telephone.

Slippery luminescence, there she inched:

Closer.

But this is before I knew what it meant

To be tickled pink.

And yet,

She inched further;

Closer.

Too close..?

I remember

Illegible thoughts, they crumbled—

tumbled—

They screamed, they panted, frantic.

As she inched closer and closer,

closer.

close.

soft.

cherry chapstick

scent.

Or, rather, I know now.

Because, again, this was before I knew

What cherry chapstick romance was.

Before I knew you,

The phantom of spring after me,

Were years ahead of me.

Pink glowing girl,

Pink glowing illuminated girl…!

I’m sorry I never told you.

Your softness,

Your aged freedom

Shook my core.

I’m sorry I never told you,

It was like knowing

A jumpscare was coming,

But ultimately enpopscicling,

eventually the melting too.

But,

Most importantly,

I’m sorry you’ll never know

You’re the reason why

I learned to love.

About the Author

"I think what really inspires my writing is my mess of feelings that I don't know how to handle. Any given thing I write starts off from a place of me trying to work out my messy and sometimes frustrating emotions through writing. I've always loved writing for that ability to put thoughts into something concrete, so its one of my favorite hobbies along with playing video games and playing with my dog!"