I had to wash the bed sheets twice to get rid of your scent, but it's still coming back each day. I feel like my heart stopped beating, like yours has. Tonight you lay dying beneath the street lights on the cold cement sidewalk. Tomorrow, sunglasses will hide my bloodshot eyes. You look like sunshine trapped in mason jars & fireflies stuck in moonbeams. You have a smile that punches straight to the spinal cord, did you know that? I just spent the last five seconds rebooting my heart, training my lungs how to breathe again. Exhale, Inhale. Tonight, I feel like a collection of wire nerves & formica bones & other things that probably shouldn't make up a girl with a heart that beats twice as fast as she stutters out denials & disbeliefs.