1. if there's a river made of promises, I'd bend my knees far enough to swim and reach the age I used to easily climb mango trees and ribboned a shoelace with your name on it on the top branch.

2. home was a silent walk from work, with words braided with 'have you eaten?' to 'i can still smell you on my shirt.' saccharine filigreed notes: a hint of vanilla, nutmeg and cinnamon. the way the sun hits your skin, and I'd consume literature to feast on, just to awaken words I can't fully form when I'm around you. 

3. they say that love is adjacent to anything hallucinatory, and maybe they are right. they have studied heartaches stacked like the leaning tower of...