this small, narrow stream is made of the sweet things you said to me. these lilacs are made of the way my name sounds lazily rolling off of your lips. the frigid wind that whips through my hair is made of the whispers you snuck into my ear. this raging, deadly waterfall is made of the way you left without saying goodbye. the footprints in the moss and handprints in the mud is evidence of how you came and went. i still miss you. i wear you on my skin in silence.