if i could pause time at the exact moment our backs were embracing the warm sun, on the cement path towards the lighthouse, with your olive bark colored hat placed on my head, i would.
I just need to remember that everything disappears, and we will not have arms to be wrapped in we will only have our minds to remember what the moments felt like.
you told me to knot two pieces of our hair together, so we wouldn’t get lost
your goosebumped skin is layered with stained ink
you slept diagonally on the bed, with the window open, echoing the sweet sound of the wooden windchime
I felt at home staring at the blank ceiling, pressed between your matress and duvet covers, and I felt safe asleep in a roomful of grandparents hoarding treasures