It was cute the way she smiled at you,
in faded tee-shirts that matched her eyes.

That white washed blue always lingered,
pressed behind my eyelids.

I could probably,
try and forget the image,
if I really wanted to.

But I didn't.

I wanted to remember everything about her.

Her smile,
her tee-shirts.

Her college sweatshirts,
("my dream colleges, I'm not smart enough to get into these places.")
And how I would just stare at her because she didn't seem to realize that
she was a genius.

But she's gone now.
Washed away,
blown away,
written over.

There are so many ways to say it.
How she ******* died.

But I prefer, "******* died."

Because I don't want to forget out childish memories,
our late nights filled with pointless conversations that led to
more meaningful ones.

She was the one that made me realize I was lesbian.
All I wanted was to kiss her.

She would wrap her arms around me,
just in goodbye hugs.
And I wished I had the courage to tell her,
"I love you. And I want to kiss you more than
anything right now."

But I'm not a brave girl.

I'm a girl who writes on the back of menu's and notebooks,
the girl who wants to forget things before they are remembered.

But I guess she was my weakness, she was many people's weaknesses after all.

I wanted to remember her before I forgot her.

Those white washed eyes,
straight white teeth smiles.
College tee-shirts with mascara stains.
Late nights where I wasn't brave enough.
Early mornings when I bid her farewell.
Mid day's where I regretted letting her go.

But I would remember that to let someone go it means to have had them be yours in the first place.

She was a free bird that one.

And I like to think that right now, she is flying with the flocks of geese.

Which were her favorites, despite my hatred.

So whenever I see the flocks of geese dotting the sky.

I like to imagine that she is one of them.

I like to imagine that she ******* cares.

But then again, I want to remember her.

And when I remember her, I remember that she didn't care about anything.

And that's why she jumped.

And that's why she cut.

And that's why she cried.

And when I remember her,
I seem to forget those parts.