she was perfect to me.
the smell of her skin was everything to me.
i was also scared of her;
she sometimes put her head on my lap and i could feel her pulse beating through
my denim jeans.
one of her teeth was chipped, and i called her my runaway because she left home
i smelled like cotton mist after it rained she had said,
i wondered if she wanted to die with me,
if it would make her happy to have a gravestone next to mine.
if her parents would still put flowers on her grave.
we met one cloudy day in may, there was fog all over her windowsill,
and she had bright brown eyes that trickled tears when she talked about
i wanted to let her know everyday that she was the scent i wanted to wake up to,
that even though i had always imagined myself alone,
i began to see her in my dreams, and i felt as if she were my hand
to always hold.
she started to get sick, her hair started to fade like the way ink does on paper
when it bleeds,
and her cheeks went hollow and her eyes got bra