in june i thought about your hair every day
because your reds were like the sun and felt warm even indoors.
in july i thought about your pulse
because your shirts were thin and i thought i could see your heart beating whenever i walked by.
in august i only thought about you every day
because it hurt too badly not to and thinking hurt less than a sunburn.
in september i stopped thinking about you
because you stopped thinking about me, and i found silence in familiar arms.
october didn't matter.
november was the same.
but
december i thought about your back every day
because your skin is like snow and your reds felt like the sun.