you know, i make these conversations in my head. i tell myself things you could never say, things i want to hear dripping from your mouth. things that make sense, things that weigh as heavily as open ended sentences. they taste like sweet peppermint in my mind, soothing to the burning feeling in the soul. i bet it feels good to be written over and over and over. there’s something satisfying about trying to make it work, then i light it up and send you its ashes, soft to touch and death-like in its stillness. have you seen ashes before? i have cremated my love with words. maybe when we spread it to the wind i’ll whisper a tiny thought to germinate in your brain: you don’t know how lucky you were to have held my attention for this long.