Plans for early Spring, 2021.
I’m going to get home and make a rhubarb and blackberry pie. My fingers are going to be tinted red, and you will be so happy.
There were nights where I would imagine you in a field of bluebells
looking around and jumping from one side of the torrent
to the other.
Your hair was long, and your feet wrapped tightly in your brown leather shoes –
You would look at the world with a sense of displacement that would sit at the back of your retina and would paint your eyes grey, so that I couldn’t tell if you hated
or if you were grieving
our youth instead;
while the bluebells shined under the rain, our skin was marked by all of our bad choices.