Some girl, sun died hair and long fingers.
The spots on her nose and above her lip remind him of summer.
She taps her feet in class and swears she's not scared.
Because the times before him, she wasn't
Sometimes she thinks on him.
How he made her beautiful by telling her.
How he wasted all his time and gas to kiss her hello, goodbye.
How he erased her worries by pressing her against the orange and denim.
He gave her a necklace and she gave him wine.
He said he'd never forget her.
She's forgetting him slowly.
She hates the cold.
When the salt and snow draw lines on he boots.
Getting out of the shower is painful goosebumps.
Once she loved the first and last days of snow.
She's write about how each flake felt when it landed between her eyelashes.
Loved snow, before her first love was over.
When valentines were about writing what love is on a pink sheet of paper.
The cold tingle turned into a sting.
The one she had first was long gone and the second, not gone long enough.
There's not much for her to say anymore, but she still says it.
Ever with the rust between her lips.