Laying in bed, i’m counting the speckles on the ceiling, along with all the ways in which I lost her. There once was a time where I use to count the freckles on her body instead; ear, nose, neck, chest, even down to the little speckle in her one eye. They were my favorite thing about her, because they were one of the only things that managed to stay the same, while she was changing like Winter to Spring.
From hello, to lets go out, to I love you, to this is getting hard to handle, to I slept with somebody else, to good bye- I counted them as she walked away for the final time, all accounted for; the only things from the start that still remain.

I think I understand why they call them beauty marks now.

I fell for
His freckles.
His corny smile.
His monkey ears.
Which magnified his tender heart.
He was kind, oh, so very kind.
His heart was an open book.
It told no secrets to share or
Regrets to ponder on.

Everybody loved him.

And he loved everyone and everything.
except for me…

But I loved him anyways.

what does it mean to be in love?

is it:
a synchronized system of sighs
?
is it:

an everlasting eternity of evolution
?
is it:

like placing hot coals on your heart?

tell me -
how every freckle formed on your face
,
and how 
you got that scar that runs through 
your nose like a river

tell me -

who is it that you want to be 
when you look in the mirror 
every morning,
what stops you from jumping off the roof
,
and how many times have you actually prayed to god
?
tell me -
what is a synchronized system of sighs?
what does it mean to be in love?

There is nothing that I wanted to do more
than trace the constellations of freckles of your skin.
Watch as your bones became Orion
guiding me home
and home is you