skin

Do you remember that funny story you used to tell at parties, I don’t even know why your friends would ask you to tell it again, they must have heard it a million times, sometimes I think they’re kind of mean, like the way they would study me when they spoke as if every word was a test, well I would pass, smiling along, laughing at the absurdity of that situation, you know, it’s the haha kind of funny, who wouldn’t think so, and I really did, but no one else knew you like that, and this might have been the fourth time I heard it, there would be more, did I tell stories like it, I know I didn’t really mind, you know that too right, but sometimes I’d think of something nice, like your face or freckles, like our trip last summer, or what we’d do next Tuesday, what Christmas would be like this year and think of all the ways I love you and there it would be, you in that situation, I’d imagine what the humidity felt like on your skin, and what words were exchanged, I’d imagine the sound of your feet against the ground and the loudness of locks, doors opening and closing, water on your lips and nervous smiles for no reason, I’d imagine the expression on your face and it ruined me, I couldn’t tell you why, but I see how it snuck into our space and now that’s inexplicably one of the best kept memories.