it is 3 p.m. when hope visits me. his t-shirt is light, jeans ripped and frayed at the cuffs, feet bare against the scattered leaves on the ground. the sun hangs halfway in the sky, the breeze carrying the taste of cooler air— it is the kind of weather you fall in love in. when he sits beside me, i shiver. it’s been a while, i say, slipping off my shoes, toes digging into the dirt. thought you’d forgotten about me. his smile is beautiful in its sincerity, eyes blue in their wistfulness. he tells me he’s sorry he’s been gone so long, tells me how much he missed me, tells me— i didn’t realize how much you needed me til now. i trace the veins along his hand, absurdly envious of the blood that flows inside of him, of the fact that we will never be that close. he cups my chin, tilts his head as he reads my face— smirks when he understands my desire. if i could dream, he says, every dream would be about you. when he kisses me, his tongue tastes like summer. he is cotton-candy stained