Young love- young death

I still remember the shirt you were wearing. It was the one your mom gave you for your birthday. The one that was checkered and made you look so much older than you actually were.

I remember what I wore too. My dress with the "too many flowers"- as you would say. I also remember how I felt when you told me you were going to war. I felt like my whole chest collapsed on itself and the only air I could breathe was through you, but you were leaving. I didn't cry when you told me. Neither did you. But it rained that day. It rained when you left and it rained when you came back. Well, not you. Your body. They put you in the same checkered shirt. But this time, it made you look much too young.