oneirataxia/poetry by k.h.

one sixteen

and we sat.

outside, on that hot summer day, our hands stained with popsicle juice, our laughs reverberating on the backs of bees. the sticks holding jokes that weren't all that funny, but oh, we laughed, we laughed hard. i looked at you holding that plastic wrapper, your shoulders turning red because we sat out for too long, nose peeling, you really never did wear sunscreen. we never stayed up late having deep conversations, we were never like that, we used afternoons to our advantage, lord knows we wouldn't wake up early enough for morning.

i love you and your popsicle stained laughs.

k.h.