look back and remember me as a raindrop on your favorite flower. water that gets soaked up. easily soaked up by something red and something beautiful. remember me as transparent and small but prominent. remember me as an element. one that can ruin. one that can destroy. that can whip through your town and rip it apart faster than you can say “i miss you” because i won’t forgive you. not now. remember me as a hurricane. destructive and uncontrollable but so intense. the damage looks beautiful somehow. doesn’t it? i wear the same kind of damage on me now. head to toe and wonder if anyone thinks it beautiful like you used to. somehow your fire complimented my rain and i burnt my fingertips and soaked you in as best as i knew how to but i knew. i knew in the back of my brain that water distinguishes fire and some things are too good to be true. especially me and you. i wear my burns now ten months later with pride and sadness and remembrance. and i hope every time the rain falls in our small town, you think of me. remember me.