it is such a sad thing that people ****
these beautiful beasts, i say
to myself as my eyes lock onto the

mirrored tawny frames of the
animals only a short distance from me.

they did not run yet, one’s
graceful neck turned in my direction
(was it thinking the same of me?)

time stopped
still on that calm
dirt street; three deer in a
row before they
gallop away and i know

this is what it means to feel free.

my grandmother used to tell me not to lay in the grass for fear bugs would eat away at my soft skin. i tried to explain this to you, but you tugged me along anyway.

we laid there on the soft green hill, our gazes directed towards the dark sky and stars overhead. it was calm and cool; you mentioned loving the cicada’s music and i replied that i cannot hear them.

we counted the stars as they appeared;
first one, then three,
then five, then more.

i couldn’t find a pattern in their seemingly random design but you were certain that was the big dipper shining so brightly.

you asked if what we saw was something special.

i looked at you, red
lips curving into a smile
as i answered
“yes,
yes, it is.”

she found me on the bathroom floor, knees held to my chest, my breathing discordant and clashing with the dance music playing outside the door-

she introduced herself with a princess’s name and took my hand in hers. i was led out through the

jostled crowd, but with our linked fingers, i did not feel afraid. we found an isolated table in the distant corner and she pulled my chair out for me.

i sipped her *****-juice and everything was easy.

i do not know if we talked for two minutes or two hours but i do know it wasn’t nearly long enough.

i do not know if we kissed for two minutes or two hours but i do know it wasn’t nearly long enough.

i remember when we sat at a local town park late at night,

we held fireflies in our hands and decided to play god. i remember you compared these little glowing bugs to humans and said
“these things, they play such a
small, insignificant role in our life.
with everything we’ve created why should we
care about them?”

you felt no shame when you crushed one between your fingertips and mocked me for setting mine free.

neither of us are religious but i couldn’t help likening this conversation to god, to faith, to worship; why should someone who has created so much, who holds so much importance, care about something as small as us?

i suppose it is the same reason why we didn’t last.

i don’t know why i remembered all this today.
i do not miss you.