dear oliver,
the taste of your honey
lips still tickled mine when
i lifted the baseball cap off
of your head, your dark brown
locks twirled slightly above,
disappearing and gently slipping
past my fingers.

you curled a strand around
your forefinger and without
any force, it fluttered onto
your palm.

“see? i’m dying.”

i shook my head and
took the locks from your
palm and gave you a
small smile.

“you’re reborn.”

quinn