orange on her face

in the same ways im sure her loop could be endless

as stagnant and traumatizing as mine

i often look in the mirror and

imagine the parts of my face she found beautiful

maybe still does

maybe wished she did

few are the mornings where the wind blows by me and forgets to leave your flower

that blue one with petals that look like linen

last night they woke up in my pockets and i simply

pulled them out to sprinkle on top of my head as

i laughed and played in that warmth of that smile you left me

the last time i saw you

many times you don’t believe the things i say to be real

but i might try to convince you of my innate insanity

for one i

am currently addicted to words and have been

thinking of you for a while and writing the ways you intrigue

me in this book i keep in my wallet

small things you hide with your voice

and your eyes as you speak

i often catch emotions you are afraid to express

but those blue bulbs are much louder than you could ever imagine

and its the job of my pen and this small book to remember for a while at least.

i would eat breakfast with you most days. the other ones ill squeeze juice into a clean cup. draw a doodle of you with your arms raised up high. read a newspaper.

the sun is setting quickly but the lights still orange on your face. take your sunglasses off for this one please.

remember that im thinking of you.