The proof is all here.
Circumstantial evidence, but no fingerprints
yet.

The cherry left in the corners of my lips
reminds me that nothing lasts as a whole
but drops of cherry juice get left behind.
And the drops are sweet.

Red.
The proof is all red.
My cheeks, flushed with summer and something else
Red shoes that leave behind a certain springtime.
My cherry creases.
But no blood,
never.

The circumstantial proof,
in this circumstance
may lead to a different conclusion
than it would have before
because circumstances has changed
along with the seasons
along with our hearts
along with the projected path in my mind.
A hologram of the futures
and pasts I am still waiting for.