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The End of the Sunset

Photo by Simon Abrams on Unsplash

The End of the Sunset I fell in love with the purple sky permanently set down behind your house and your red porch light fire-glow a morning and an evening met. You're a face peering from behind bed sheet curtains, flower-patterned your body an outline in thin layer. You can't see the sky for the roof for the dusk fading houses into ash. And we are sharing that blank-faced look of desire, the one that always holds me in this space on the sidewalk. ​ I cannot stand here, forever in wonder gasping on your sip of fresh cold and linger only in the invitation. The enamoured thrill of sunsets the purple sky a suspenseful surprise must be made known. ​ Your living room is dim and scraps of days are piled in the corners. The furnace burns like waking arms from sleep, and the sky can't make it through the windows. I knew walking in that anticipation ends that we would be obscured by shadow pressed together between narrow walls. But there is now the sweetness of this quiet finish the sunless color when all skies converge into the first act of motion.

~ Tor Lowell


Tor Lowell is a queer, non-binary writer from the Pacific Northwest. Their previous work has appeared in Peculiar: A Queer Literary Journal, Jonathan: A Queer Fiction Journal, and QDA: A Queer Disability Anthology. Did they mention they were queer?