I remember when we were
sickly brains and visible bones
and there was something so romantic
in dying.
The night you told me I was beautiful
and I laughed.
And I laughed.
And I laughed, because
who knew those words would mean so much
until you left me.
We would watch the clouds and talk about
how they were meant to be on the ground
but they
hung
themselves instead.
You joked that you were jealous, and you’d be a cloud one day.
If i’m honest, i didn’t really understand what you meant
i didn’t really know, and i still don’t know but
i do know
that when i look at the clouds
all i see
is
you
.