i. The hushed whispers of interlocking lips are woven into the stitches of your comforter now—I hope one day when you're tossing it to the trash you stop for a moment and remember the sultry August night we combined ourselves into one being.
ii. When your fingers rustle through the pages of that old black notebook, I hope you come
across the tattered corners of love notes long forgotten, that the ink on the pages burns your skin.
iii. As your lover's fingers dance through your hair, I hope you are reminded of the summer nights we spent hiding from the world, the nights we used each other to get away.
iv. I hope five years from now, small things send you back to me, that my name will tie itself around your tongue.