I’m running out of reasons to look forward to moving away because of the things with pretty faces.
A face that looks up at me because it’s the only face that’s still shorter than me.
Two faces who have watched me grow up like a tree that was rooted out of the palm of their hands
A beautiful face that loves me and kisses me, even if I don’t deserve it.
I feel like I’m standing on the pages of a thin calendar just waiting for it to tear under me