holiday, objectively

[juliatherese]

rain drips through the screen to a grey tile floor. a nightmare awakes me hours early and i remember his skin against mine. still warm, i watch closed quiet eyes, lips parted and freckles my fingers can't count. my toes tracing lines on the ceiling while he sleeps. the third long night; july, june, september. i ride his bike laughing and scrape my left knee, draw blood through a new green dress. there's one, maybe three streets in town; we picnic on farmlands, watermelon seeds and wet grass. not enough cars to notice on a rural pennsylvania road. four thirty arrives too soon.

so many other thoughts, learning to filter