how we used to be

i. amber bottles

i sat on the hood of your car 

wrapped in a batik blanket

you tell me about your brother

a laugh bubbled up in the pit of my stomach

the sun dipped behind the horizon in a crescendo of orange

i could see the fire in the sky behind your closed eyes

i tilted my head up towards the heavens with my arms outstretched

you kissed me

slow and rushing

infantile and ancient

secure and terrifying

worrysome and exactly right

ii. paperback

i filled out eighteen journals while you were gone

the happy haunting of your unwashed sweatshirt 

hung on the posts of my bed every night

i thought of you often

the simple 'i miss you' text would have burned out the pixels on your screen

by the intensity of how much i loved you

darling, if you only loved me 

half as much as you loved yourself

iii. brake fluid

you left me crying that night

i sped off towards the distant hills by the river

sprinting to our woods

finding that sad, lone blackberry bush

plucking off the berries we used to sink our teeth into

i crushed them in my hands

feeling the violet juice drip off my calloused palms

i threw every sad blackberry

into the angry, coursing water