i’ve watched the careful way you card your fingers
through your hair,
as if casting a spell of
i’m convinced that you are made of magic;
the unbearably lovely kind.
do you remember as well as i,
that road trip we took in junior year
with the rest of our paper-packaged friends
through the desert flatlands of Nevada?
and those jokes we told and the secrets we shared
under cashmere cream blankets in the truck bed
with the tailgate down?
i miss the carefree way we laughed;
crying with joy until we couldn’t speak.
i miss the way you leaned your head on my shoulder,
how you’d braid my hair at every chance you got,
just to show off what you learned from Bree.
i miss that vanilla mint cologne
you used to spray on your hoodies.
i wish you’d use it again,
just so you could smell like you and not that pretty enchantress who wants to steal