iii. i love it when you smile. it aches. like wishing on breezes.
everything glimmers when the dawn catches in your gaze.
burns. i'll miss the honeydew melons we cauterized when
it was midsummer, bees framing your lashes as you bled
nectar. like we had bled stars in 1997. i was unalive, but you
were alive, and we captured everything in our journals.
