i remember seventeen

seventeen holds me tonight.
she’s soft and warm, like the sweater that i lost when we ran through the sprinklers in the park.
she’s the worn leather seats of his little silver car.
bellamy was good to us.

seventeen and i, we go way back.
i know the smell of her no matter how the years pass.
she’s the wisps of your first cologne you bought to mask the scent of teen spirit deodorant.
she is the chocolate frosting on grandmas texas sheet cake on our last october as a trio.

seventeen lives on my tongue.
she tastes like shared cigarettes and lukewarm red bull.
she is the flavor of yellow skittles and a black ice little tree air freshener.

sometimes, seventeen talks to me in little whispers. sometimes it’s in shouts.
her laughter is pancake breakfast late. missed biology test late.
she sings to me our backyard musicals we wrote.

i see her through my window, seventeen, when i drive to our star spot.
i find her face in orange caution cones in yarnell.
she is his hair set alight by the sun when he tells me he is proud of me.

seventeen sits with me and her fingers trace my tattoos.
i tell her about eighteen and nineteen and how they hurt for fun.
i also tell her about twenty one and twenty two and how they were gentle and kind
but mostly,
i tell her i’m sorry it’s been so long.

i think of seventeen and i wonder
how did i ever forget you?