I give her my jacket knowing when she’s gone
It will still smell like her hugs

Putting my arm around her shoulders is more honest
Than when I raise my arm to the square

I don’t know where she is going in life
But I wouldn’t mind if it were the same place I was

The wind blows silently when she is speaking
Because even the flowers want to listen

If her smile were a disease, I would gladly infect myself
Especially if there were no vaccine

My chest is an air mattress when her head rests against it
I don’t mind when it deflates, brining her a little closer

Even in the winter I can smell fresh-cut grass
And it brings back memories I wish she were a part of

If I were made of mirror, when she looked at me
She might understand why I stare