Fragments of You

Spring Flowers, Washington DC, April 2018 _{(Credit: Author)}

I was ten hours single the first night I kissed you.
A night of ruined stargazing and a fast food dinner,
Bolts of invisible lightning sparking between us,
While looking at photos on my parents’ couch.

I walked you out to your car in biting cold.
We hugged good night, too hesitant to part.
A hair too familiar for just being friends.
We already belonged to each other.

So, I kissed you on the cheek,
“Plenty more where that came from down the road.”
I let a moment pass, heart thundering in my chest.
“But would you mind if I stole one right now?”

That kiss sheltered me from the storm. 
It was freezing, but you were all I needed.
I could have held my arms around you.
The moment of our first kiss was a beautiful eternity.

I was never supposed to love you,
But there you were, the new girl in school was mine. 
We tried to keep us a secret from everyone,
Though we were far too giddy to be subtle.

You were late the next morning to pick me up.
You had stopped to get us hot chocolate, 
And I kissed you good morning as if it were the thousandth time.
I felt like we were already lovers.

We made it official after our first outing.
Monument gazing in the capital city.
And yet in the museum, I looked only at you.
You were the most captivating piece in there.

We spent an afternoon of house shopping,
Recounting our pasts and dreaming of our future.
We admitted we loved each other without sound,
Until I let slip those three little words, and you said them back.

I traced your constellations of freckles with the window open,
To the smell of sandalwood, and the sounds of birds.
I kissed you and said that I was yours forever.
Forever ended in too short a time.

Now we’re a long-since dead dream entombed by words.
There were many thorns amidst your roses, 
But warm winter sunshine is all I care to recall.
The fragments of you paint a prettier picture.