I think of a green ribbon
with a gardenia lightly resting on top.
Of how the lace matches her eyes.
Of a pale wrist and how tight
he must have tied the knot.
I think of soft lids closing,
slowly,
over emerald orbs.
Of how they shined
with unshed tears
whenever I tried to pry.
I think of lingering hugs.
Of how I couldn't be held responsible
for once, twice, thrice.
Of the heartbeats pulsing
out of control.
Of the combinations of parts
singing loudly, yet
at the same pitch.
I think of a rotting gardenia
kept well hidden inside a tiny box
behind closet doors.
Of a worn out ribbon
that was once
the colour of freshly cut grass.
I think of childhood memories and old clothes,
all packed away in cardboard boxes.
Of a cheerleader's uniform resting
in display, behind glass,
between trophies.
I think of the day realization came
and as it came, I knew she'd left,
for good.
I always think about you, I wish I had said.
