i miss u.
i miss my cousin's fingers in the silky chocolate curls of my beach hair. i miss her whispers sticky in my brain, melting like ice cream, melting like someone opened my brain and the sunset spilled into my mind and made my garden beautiful.
i miss the starry sky under which we danced. i miss how u sang soft cherry lana del rey songs by the ocean swimming pool. i miss lana's dreamy voice drifting from the living room as i stumbled though my subconscious and my flowers sobbed. i miss how i danced and tangled my soul in the magnolia flowers of ur garden and choked on honey lemon water like rose petals.
i miss my friend. i miss how my friend's brother hated the1975, but that just made me love the band even more. i miss that one night (yeah, that one) when we played cards and i got up and danced on the mattress to somebody else. that night when i felt the drum beat of the song making me dizzy and making my thoughts of the guava sunrise ever so prominent and gorgeous. i remember when u beat me at the card game and i collapsed on the bare mattress in self-inflicted agony, picking stars out of my skin and rearranging them in the ceiling of the hotel room.
i miss my friends. i miss how we would suck raspberry ice cream in the heat of the wailing sun. we would sit at this bench at the corner of a street, watching the sun sparkle on the pavement and laughing about the fruit flies that would eat sunburned paradise off our skin.
i miss all those a.m. nights when i would sit in the living room and watch the fresh top ten summer songs and eat honey from grandmama's jars. and then this girl would come on and i would smile in a way that could make roses grow and then i would sob over vanilla ice cream because nostalgia's my lover and sometimes when he pulls a sunflower from my head i get upset.
i miss how my damp hair felt like a tropical beach on my white t-shirt as i sat on the balcony and watched the city lights. i miss how ghost by halsey was on shuffle and i let the hollow sounds get settled down in a home made of my summer kiss ribs. i miss how i would hear mama's honey warm voice through the doorway as she told my sister stories of the sun.
i miss how i stuck my camera out the 12th floor window to capture the egg yolk sun setting over the buildings. little did i know at the time that i ate part of that sunset and the sun stills lives in me.
nostalgia,
he's my sweet baby angel
