something about the way she said, maybe.
hesitant and airy. gloom.
hands trembling pouring orange juice at breakfast too late in the day.
that way.
but tell me do you know why her father left?
more so, why she left him?
do you know if the scar on her right side is symbolic to some prior injury or just a birthmark, tell me the story of why she's moved so many times. maybe you don't know her address or her favorite song but does she take her coffee black or with two sugars?
what do the colors of her sundresses taste like... what about when it storms?
is her poetry for you or about you, maybe
neither, maybe you'll never know
maybe she wants it that way.
when you tell her she smells like home-
what image dances along the movie screens in your mind?
if you could travel back to last summer would you erase the weeks she hooked you to cigarettes, did you smile or shutter at her angelic tone when she shouted "*******" for the last time?
why she learned to love plants instead of humans?
why her sighs sound like exit signs?
maybe, why she speaks in metaphors and breathes in monotones.