I can’t wrap my mind around where you find time to screen-print valentines between five classes, but I’ve kept mine tucked underneath pamphlets about loneliness and suicide prevention by my bedside.

I’ve been [bad word] to collide with southern Florida for the past few nights, where you’ll return to in due time, the sun-kissed coast you left behind when you traveled north to find your place in my native state.

And even though I don’t know a lick of Spanish I know that passing by your lips, it’s never sounded so bueno.

I think there’s something to be said about a language I don’t speak being stuck inside my head. I’d like to think it means a lot when I can’t understand a word you say but still love to hear you talk.

When it snows here I’ll think of you where it never really grows that cold.