szns Marshall in the spring we watch the rain. we stay up late talking about nothing and i spend my days thinking about everything. i spend hours memorizing your faceー the way you scrunch your nose when you think, or notice a freckle i didn’t see before, a childhood scar, a birthmark. you take pictures of me everywhere. in the bath, on the couch, eating breakfast. i make a white paper flower for you and you carry it in your wallet. at night i dream of white marble and pink satin.
in the summer, we walk in the park. the sun floats on your skin like an airy kiss, filtered through layers of round leaves. your camera lies forgotten in your desk and you spend more time working on your laptop than you ever did before. you don’t trust me with your facial expressions anymore. i buy a red silk dress, hoping the sight of my shoulders in the thin straps will bring it back. at night i dream of yellow wilting flowers with big, wide petals. in the fall, you leave. we don’t talk much in the last few weeks. your expressions come backー hewn from the dark ungraceful stone of annoyance and indifference. i go to the park and write poems about orange leaves and the birds leaving for winter. the ink is warped from the thick drops that i pretend are rain. one day i come back to an empty house and a crumpled paper flower in the trash can. at night i dream of stifling grey clouds forcing themselves down my throat. in the winter, i cry. cradled by a thick blanket of snow. every tear slowly washes my mind, wiping away the slopes of your neck and the shape of your fingernails. your shampoo bottles sit on the floor of my bathtub and every morning i drink your tea that hasn’t run out yet. your favorite places become sacred temples. i clean out my closet. on the floor is a crumpled red silk dress. at night i don’t dream of anything.
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