November 1, 2010
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Driving down the highway and you were singing along to Gibbard and I couldn’t help but join in. The cars were passing us and so were trees. They all kept saying, this is good. I kept saying, this is nice. Your hair spread like humming birds and your eyes opened with fire and ice colliding inside them. The man in the bunny suit would still sit in the backseat and whisper to me then though. He just wouldn’t leave.

You shared the medical experience of your past loves and mistakes. You spread out how you made so many incisions to yourself and how many wires you replaced to be with them.

You watched me like a ten car wreck and didn’t shout I’m sorry when they pulled me away in the ambulance.

In a corn maze you asked what I wanted to say to the world and I never answered. All I could think of to say was Ginsberg quotes.
It’s sad because you look at leaves and you know they are only going to get fall. But you told me I was wrong about that. You said all leaves have a period when they are beautiful before they die. All of them reach something everyone can fall in love with. They become beautiful and die.
I decided you were beautiful in that moment, and then I said were not going to die, to the world.

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