He never remembers my moms birthday or the day we graduated, but he remembered the way her nose crinkled when she laughed and how she likes her coffee with extra cream
He sucked at telling you when they first kissed but could go on and on about her favorite color and how he'd paint the color on the morning skies with it
He was terrible at remembering dates and days, but he could speak of each freckle that was on her face and he always did it so softly and I think that what she admired most.
YOU ARE READING
teenage fools
PoetryI write poetry about life, death, love, hurt, depression, and basically everything.
