1. if there's a river made of promises, I'd bend my knees far enough to swim and reach the age I used to easily climb mango trees and ribboned a shoelace with your name on it on the top branch.

2. home was a silent walk from work, with words braided with 'have you eaten?' to 'i can still smell you on my shirt.' saccharine filigreed notes: a hint of vanilla, nutmeg and cinnamon. the way the sun hits your skin, and I'd consume literature to feast on, just to awaken words I can't fully form when I'm around you. 

3. they say that love is adjacent to anything hallucinatory, and maybe they are right. they have studied heartaches stacked like the leaning tower of Pisa. But they don't know the hum I make when you brought me the cheesecake I was yearning for at 4am and left it on my doorstep, just cause. Or the time you went fishing with my dad, and talked about war movies and shared a beer, just cause. Or the time your sister got married and you called just to say, I'd look good in a champagne wedding gown by the garden one day, just cause.

4. april is a sad month for me, even sadder than my birthday. it smelled of fresh flowers, greenery and new beginnings. the streets are cleaner, the air wakes you in a stillness you've long forgotten. crumpled memories, unsent texts, disregarded memorabilia all under beds to veneer a lonesomeness you hide by spring dresses, excessive coffee drinking and sunbathing with friends.

5. the last walk i had to the beach, you visited me as a memory. you sat beside me like you always did, and recited my poem to me. i asked you, 'where have you been all this time?' and you pointed at the sunset, and said 'i never left.'