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 .