UNDOCUMENTED CHILDHOOD: ⨠ģ¼.FOUR Ā ā©
when i was younger i fell in love. i fell in love with the fourth, and the way grass blades licked my ankles as i hiked to the very top of the highest hill, in hopes for the perfect view.
i fell in love with the way the colors kissed my features, beaming down in assortments of patriotic hues, in harmony with the faint gleam of the moon.
i fell in love with the way it felt like no other moment throughout the course of my existence could ever be so perfect, especially when i turned to you and could read the wordsĀ āi love youā written in your smile alone. it wasnāt until later on that i would find out i was right, and that would be the day i fell out of love.
that day came when i was fourteen years old, and all my traditions had died with you.
i fell out of love with the first fourth in which i spent inside, elbow against warm mahogany as a faint booming sound around this sullen house.Ā
i fell out of love with the way she wreaked of liquor, arm held over her face: a visual image in which even she, a woman who once stood so strong, had a hard time accepting your absence.Ā
i fell out of love with the way that freedom never meant much to me until it felt like i had lost it.Ā











