335 W. Berlin Lane
Ashland, Ohio 44805
Henry,
It's funny how the mind associates things with other things. how I associate the taste of honey with the smell of your skin. how I can't help but think of the color of your eyes when I see a thundercloud.
I miss the way you'd sometimes stumble over your words when you were thinking too hard.
sometimes I think it's unfair when october rolls around. do you remember how, on mischief night, we made love in the backseat of your rusty pickup truck while those silly twelve-year-olds threw eggs at the windows? remember how the runny wet yolk of one dripped through the crack in the moonroof and landed by the corner of my eye and how you thought I was crying?
and in some ways, I don't want to look back on the carcasses of jack-o-lanterns left on our doorstep, the ones we forgot about weeks after halloween because we spent days stowed away in our bed, under thick covers, pressed close as one. I don't want to look back on the way their carved smiles rotted and their eyes melted. the way their insides bruised and stained and decayed. we'd lways leave them out until they turned into skeletons.
you used to call no pumpkin, remember?
today's idiom from my changyu calender read, "one day, three autumns", meaning when you miss somebody, twenty-four hours can feel like one thousand and ninety five days.
I miss your laugh, your tired gaze, the tangled curles of your hair. you.
Evelyn
1 comment:
Poetry.
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