she told me it’s just your brain
protecting itself

because it’s only good when you look back on it
but I can feel the way your fingers felt playing with my hair before tracing freckles in the sunshine

but tucked around the corner
like a child snickering about stealing the last chocolate bar

I can hear the whispers of arguments
of resentment and frustration

I know it’s protection

but it’s hard when perfection was replicated when there weren’t words or clothes to get in the way.

wrapped in sunshine and caressed by fantasies we both wanted to come true