i. i kissed her forehead. i kissed her nose and the birthmarks on her skin and all the places she didn't love. i kissed her knuckles and fingers and reminded her to breathe because she needed it. all of it.
ii. she cried. i always only asked whether she wanted me or not. some days she'd crush my boundaries completely and i'd pull her so close that her heart could beat alongside mine. and some days she'd want to drown on her own. i'll always come back for her. i'll always come back.
iii. i told her i would be at her funeral. she asked how i was so sure i would outlive her, i'm not sure of that at all though. if i die tomorrow, i'll still be there.
iv. i let her tell me about everything. she'd ramble on about a poet she loved or why she hated a certain band. she'd bitch about her day or describe how much she loves the sky. she let me know her.
v. i would take her places. coffee shops, antique stores, city streets and the house my grandparents lived in. she always wanted to see the world. she wanted to see it with me.
vi. i miss her cheeks, miss her shoulders. i wish i could still kiss her and tell her all the things that are to love about her. i even miss when she'd scream about how she hated all of it.
vii. i'll never forget her eyes, stormy or calm. i long for the way she spoke to me as if i was the only one she'd let worry about her, even though she didn't want me to. i learned her weak spots. and loved every last one.
