Agape.


And you’ll remember old graves sat beside new flowers when that boy took a swing at you and missed; all high and unaware of your first name, you acquainted him with those long dead instead- as he fell over the wall, straight into them, head first, maybe, but who really knows.

Or in a brighter light, one day when I fell ill and couldn’t hold my head up in the waning summer heat, when seasons were changing and the sound that the ground used to make matured and grew into a light crack against my step, I knew it, hiding behind orange and green neon scoops of ice cream, new flavors, new sweetness in my mouth or was it the sickness?

I needed to sit down, let the colored confection slip through my fingers, let you shade me over and then we can go home and this can be over. But I could barely get a foot out the door before tears came and put me to shame in front of you, your little sister off digging in the front yard. Not a word could be managed from the passenger seat of your car but the nerve of you to share in my sorrow. Well, it was all the conversation I needed.

And there on in a few days, walking along in new strength, slow and stopping every few minutes, I just have to tell you the sweetest parts made their home in the streets, in a lesson, or a lie, in a joke or a brave gesture. I’ll remember that I loved you in the dark, up a hill, or in a tree, dying for you to come closer, conning in and counting the seconds before you first kissed me.

The sun knew it first, and the moon soon caught on, people passing by could tell sometimes, and others not so much. Still, love was in full bloom and blushing along the way.

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