'skin cancer', she said,
with a million years of sadness
struck upon her smile

(wasting girl, wasn't it you
who told me to never give up?)

'lets not think about it'
your way to forget perhaps
but things like that etch their way
into my thoughts.

what if treatment doesn't work?

Hearts doused in dreams
finicky about wasting time for once
fingers dripped in blue paint
tracing names so no one would forget us.

sitting against the oak tree
we grew up with
tired, our bodies stop to talk
about losing cells and we watch in wonder
into the night.