i made staircases out of these bones too young and too fast, the same way you came and the same way you left. in those days these lungs were oceans; this ribcage was sinking. i only wanted to let the waves wash over, to forget you, to dissolve me.
we made homes in stairwells when the light still leaked through the leaves, when it still spilt orange over faded green. the times when i was your sky and you electric blue, the times the strawberries seeped into your skin; how the cuts on your fingers made me want to heal you when i could only love you more.
but maybe even after all these years your fingerprints are still etched into me; i will always carry your hands in my own.