first day of spring across from you by Dynas Johnson

       · · · — — — · · · CC


​first day of spring across from you

                                                                                                                                                                            while listening to “cuddled up. [lofi / jazzhop / chill mix]”
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 by the Jazz Hop Cafe channel
                                                                                                                                                                                                                       and “Aika - Neon Pink (feat. Hana)”

nothing really tastes good anymore. dining hall food’s not bad the wait in line not that long at this hour the conversations not too loud but i still feel restless like the wind that’s swatting ice and snow into everyone’s faces. when i see you walking towards me unexpectedly i sort of want to leave. i’ve learned to acknowledge my desire to spend time with you as remnants of a love that you would’ve refused. we’re friends and i want to stay friends and i don’t want you to think otherwise but sometimes sitting across from you hurts and despite the snow settling over the dead leaves the roots needed to be dug out and the resulting shift in soil left room for weeds.

talking to you sometimes is like eating a snowball. a numbing that stings the teeth heavies the tongue makes the words hard and stiff so they land on the soil like rocks and not seeds and you can’t plant rocks and rocks don’t let things grow and besides it’s snowing right now so i imagine everything that i want to express is no longer living but the dead plant sometimes peeks through my smiles and glances where i pretend that your mouth is not adorable and your cheeks are not pinchable and your hair is not the kind of soft i want to touch. but i know that we would’ve died from hypothermia. i’ve avoided the potential breakage by swallowing the words. i’m full of rocks and snow. i eat when i’m not hungry to avoid starving but when i eat normally i never feel full.

there’s a pocket of wet frost in my throat the shape of every moment where i hugged you and you stiffened didn’t hug me back told me that you don’t know how to give me hugs without feeling like you can’t offer as much warmth. i wish you would’ve told me to screw off. i don’t know how to eat lunch or dinner with you anymore. we’ll sit across from each other me with some pasta you with a plate of something i know you won’t finish and we’ll talk about your day because i don’t feel like bringing up mine and you’ll say that you’re tired meanwhile i want to say that i’m tired too but for different reasons.

first day of spring and it’s snowing. my succulents are watching the outside with a quiet sort of fascination and i know they want to get closer but they instinctively know that they can’t. the sky’s obscured by yesterday’s frost and i’m developing an ache that tells me my inside is syncing up with my outside again. i’ll be coughing up snow and sighing dreams for the rest of the day. wish i could talk about flowers or warmth or the artwork i saw on instagram. wish i could dwell more on the possible internship stipend i might get, the kanji that i need to learn by next monday for my japanese class, or something else besides you because if i don’t clear out this fog i’ll always be clouded. but feelings always leave a kind of frostbite with me.

i’m eating pasta with soupy alfredo sauce and a dry roast beef wrap and nothing tastes good anymore ever since i went home for the holidays and had real food and nothing tastes good when the world is trying to drown me in a season that i’m trying to move on from and nothing tastes good when the snow in your throat makes everything go down cold and sometimes insipid, obviously unloved, seasoned but not flavorful, or maybe that’s just my tongue saying that there’s so much that needs to come out that nothing can come in.

full of a lonely that’s always hungry, i dump my plate into the trash. leaving you behind to finish your meal, i resolve to fold this pain into a paper plane and send it flying into the white mouth of the sky. i hope the clouds enjoy the snack.

​

Bio: Dynas Johnson is an English major at Temple University and a contributing editor for Hyphen, Temple’s undergraduate literary magazine. She has poems featured in Sooth Swarm Journal, Ghost Proposal, Rogue Agent, and Vagabond City Lit. When she is not writing, she can be found studying, listening to BTS, or looking for new bubble tea places. You can find her on Instagram: @dynasaur0 and on tumblr: https://shuidinosaurs.tumblr.com/.

---