PERSON Poem: Heat, by Johannes Berriman

April blinked—
and something peeled off me.
I wanted sun,
not you.

We fucked like
we could undo winter.
But spring still rotted
in the corners.

You called it love.
I called it
what I could get.

Now it’s summer again,
and I’m still
peeling myself
off memories.

Still burning
for something
that never
wanted to stay.