a boy, no not him, tells you that he loves you for the first time in your two months of dating him. and your body, frozen, struggles to find something to say that would not turn him into a dead thing. so you tell him that your mouth is a graveyard carrying each i love you that never made it back to you. you always thought that they would eventually return home someday. when he asks to bring them back to life, you will tell him that everything you touch becomes a memory. when he tells you well don't stop holding me, you will tell him that you are a walking cemetery holding the tombstones of each boy who couldn't stay long enough to love you back but still managed to stay long enough to haunt you. but he doesn't take a hint from any of this. instead, he plants a kiss on your soft lips. his eyes dance with yours and he tells you that there are no such things as ghosts.
