i read a book today. it's been years and i forgot how much i needed new words to collect. i sat under fluorescent lights and tucked sentences behind my ears when i brushed curls out of my face.

today is a runny egg with the yolk sliding across chipped ceramic plates, a day like the sound of raindrops hitting the roof and an untuned guitar, soft but with a touch of vinegar.

i remember, more than anything, tracing the map of your face with my fingers, tracing your jaw, the curve of your nose, the way your eyes turned into smiley faces when you looked at me. i want to go back to where the sunlight from your window got caught in your eyelashes, the smell of lilac and mornings and candles burnt all the way down, covered in blankets you made yourself, but that's gone and so are you.

i miss your hands in my hair, twirling my curls around your fingers while you spoon fed me pretty stories. i miss the way your hands were never steady unless they were on me.

when you disappeared i shoved my life into a kaleidoscope and it fractured into shards of colored glass in piles at my feet.

it's almost easter.

two years ago easter day tasted like whiskey and the smell of rain coming through my open window and your stupid pretty easter egg colored hair when we sat on your bed with our fingers touching.

one year ago easter day tasted like faded magenta and disappointment.

i don't know what this easter will taste like.

every night when the sky bleeds out purples and reds, i see you. eyes full of stars that could never quite hang straight in the sky. crooked.

please stay purple.