Last year, I saw pictures of the house that ruined my dreams. It was a wilder time, when I hadn't yet made arrangements with myself about which morals I would adopt. I'd strike my own face to try and forget what I looked like inside.
I kept trying to write you letters. I told you that you reminded me of making mistakes. I told you I loved you and meant it, I told you over and over I'd never love again, but we knew we were magnets.
This year, I took time to put colors to my feelings. Green was what I felt when I saw your face. Blue was what I felt when the perfect song came on. I tried to assign a feeling to yellow, but ran away from it, as