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After Sophomore year I set out
on some unconscious mission
to run a dissolving kiss
down the seams of existence
I remember she made
a paper snowflake out of glue and scissors
in elementary school, the excess pieces?
I lost them in an ash heap of a decade
so logistically, stuck in a memorable pip of hollow
I searched for that stray epiphany
to discover something as simple as happiness again
how did she dream with all that excess shiver
that coated the cosmos of the days,
in my disintegrating recollection of it all
time mimics a wishbone snapping in two
and I think I’ve learned to melt a little in the solemn,
the nostalgia that is thickly
caped in bittersweet desolation
she asks, “how does it feel to be happy again Jayden”