When We Were Metaphors

For
I was the slight smell of kerosene

I was the dull black in the green

I was the dirt sitting softly on your shelf 
I was the paint chipping off your bed.
You were the branch of an old willow tree
you were the way a dancer moves free
you were the way ink flowed on my hand 
you were the way the universe expands. 

I was the crumble of a tart on a summer day
I was the frills of the chandelier my mother made.
You were a giant wheel with fairy lights
you were a picture book filled with colors jut right. 

I was a kite torn while being made
I was a curtain too light to give shade
I was a book that yellowed too soon
I was a faded picture of the moon.
You were a wave stretched too far to hold in a palm
you were a fragrant poison that lingered on
you were a penny dropped in the shallow end
you were a romance that ruined my essence.