By Emelia Cyr
a deer mistakes the heat of headlights for the heat of the sun
i’m a deer in headlights running from the humming of a car coming around the bend,
outside it is cold and it is snowing and gasoline is stinging my nose,
as the humming comes closer i feel no need to pick up the pace in which i’m running,
i let the warm glow of headlights paint over my body and i come to a halt,
i feel no need to run from the conflict of pain,
in some way it becomes comforting to know i could feel again,
the smell of gasoline wears off and my body has warmed,
my eyes meet with those of the stranger in the front seat,
run me over gently and let me go with light,
so i’ve mistaken the heat of headlights for the sun,
at least now i can rest in it for a bit.
feel me now
last night i had a dream,
the air was cold and my legs shivered,
in the dream you were here
and i got to wake up to you everyday.
the smell of your skin warmed my core
and the sun came shining through the curtains,
the birds were singing
and your lips tasted like sweet honey.
i woke to realize
that you had not been here at all,
my room smelled of cold sweat
and the moon was hanging high
the crickets were softly humming
and my mouth was dry.
i rolled onto my back
and stared up at my ceiling,
because of you i know love had been real
i’ll crawl back into your love for eternity
because this was the sweetest dream
there has ever been.
Emelia Cyr is a first-year creative writing student at UMF. She loves music and literature, snoopy and Mary Oliver. She is an aspiring poet who currently has one released chapbook titled “Honey Shades of Blue” published by Bottlecap Press.