dear august,
i am a girl who doesn't know what a father's love feels like. i really don't know what real love feels like. i wear compliments like clothes that fit too big and swallow the words that hurt me too bad. and there's a song that can hit me into pieces. i played it twice on your radio in hopes that it would linger in your thoughts like you do in mine. in your passenger seat, i played it twice. once in july and once when the sun hadn't come out in weeks. i placed notes and broken hearts in your glove compartment in hopes that when you reach for the last pack of gum- have you noticed i cut my hair? your eyes are no longer yours, but i'll blame the weather instead. the wind is in my hair in ways your fingers never could. dear august, you are breaking my heart, and the pain is no longer easy to withstand. but i will swallow it down, and i'll tie my hair up. what's left of it, i'll tie it up. and there's dishes to do in the meantime and people to fall in love with. there's planes to catch and heartbreaks to eat ice cream to. but i met a boy who tells me that i remind him of sirius A. that my voice soothes his anxiety. he tells me i am the definition of love. my tears reek of his saltburn skin. except this time, it's happy tears. he makes me smile till i ache to extract my molars out. dear august, i no longer want to be your one call away midnight drunk thought. last night, i knew what to say. but you weren't there to hear it.
