we always knew you were the kind to get married young.
you were bright and innocent and a breath-catching kind of beautiful.

i saw you first in a swimming pool: your hair bobbed in the water,
long golden curls that drank the sunlight and reflected my face,
like mirrors.
your eyes matched the water and your teeth were so white when you smiled.
you told me 'hello' and that, i guess, was that. the summer had begun.

we were called inseperable so many times, but really,
that is a lie.
there were some things that distracted you,
things like dances and parties and dazzling boys.

you found me one day, in lazy july, with a grin on your face
and a new light in your eyes.
'he's amazing,' you told me, and i wish i could have been happy for you.
but i know how these things go.
days melted together and two months had gone by.
you were arrow-pierced and i could see love dusted across your eyelashes.

'we're getting married,' you laughed, like life was new again,
and i hate to tell you that i was not surprised.
i helped you pick the flowers and the perfect, perfect dress,
while time flew by because, at heart, time has always been cruel.

a day before you left, i was trying to write you a poem for farewell,
but my mind ran dry and my hands couldn't move.
you smiled when i told you but your eyes looked so sad.
you told me, don't worry.
not every kind of beauty can be written down.

it was sweltering the day you left, lines of sweat on your perfect skin.
you sped off down the highway, next to him in a flaming red car,
your dress and gloves and jewelry still on.
the white veil ripped away from your golden-curl hair,
flying backward on a fierce gust of wind.

it looked like mist as it settled to the ground.
i picked it up and it smelled like your perfume.

and i,
i am so sorry that
this
is the way you had to say goodbye.