let them slip,
                                       drip,
                                                           ­     fall...
as if part of a melting popsicle that drops to the cement
and leaves my face strewn with salty sadness.
I drew elaborate stories in her sandbox,
I told her the secret to being an adult as a child.

there was a tarantula in Martin's shoe
when you left,
                        not your fault for not seeing,
         your eyes were too shamefully stuck on the floor.

I've stopped thinking that moment is everything;
there are so many more:

His hand in mine, comforting and sweet
but just as exciting as when our legs touched,
painting my balance beam in swirling colors,
playing dress up in my mother's wedding gown,
almost breaking my tail bone in hysterical laughter,
singing in front of hundreds with no butterflies--
                               (not even moths!)
Tasting raspberries after a month of just cantaloupe,
knowing that you'll miss me as much as I miss you.

Everyone loses someone who they never want to leave,
but I've learned to
                                        
                                               let you  go.
                                                        ­        *every single one of you.