The lotion on my hands is a reminder of the softness of your skin. And all the lovers that have come between us, I have to log into my bank and hope that their ghosts won’t come knocking at my door in order to make tea. 

You speak in circles, your head in the stars. Making sentences out of memories. A collection of fables wave through your organs, and keep your blood pumping rampant. 

I never liked days like this. The rain washes away the dirt from the bottom of our shoes, which serve as a reminder of the places we’ve been.I can’t stay mad at you because the blues of your eyes remind me of a perfect sky I once saw, when all was good and still.