I still remember
the sound of your voice
(but only if I start with my name)
the smell of your room in high school
the salt of your lacrosse sweat
met with crushed Virginia grass
the stale but inviting stash
of ditch **** in your drawer
from before we knew better
those fleet heart beats
in the back of your
red two-door
when you held my face
in your hands
when you kissed me
and gave me my heart
when you told me
you love me
first