I only eat White Cheddar Bunny Noodles

How is falling any different than flying?

I remember everything that was uttered by those peony pink butterflies that everyone calls a mouth. But mouth feels like a cuss word when I use it to describe that jittery hole on the bottom third of your face. 

Which frustrates me because. You like her. I get it. 

But then I don't.

I don't get it because sometimes those delicate peonies open up to form a name. My Name. And I wish they wouldn't because when they do it sends me back to the fourth grade carnival, and spinny rides give me motion sickness. And I hope you forgot about that day. But I also hope you remembered because that was day you sat with me on that red bench while the other kids rode the rides.

I don't get it because sometimes you open the peonies up to reveal an orange slice (like you did when you were a kid) and the citrus makes me laugh (because I remember it)and we can just look at each other for a second, and reminisce about peanut-butter-honey. Honesty is scribbled on your forehead in pink sharpie and I can tell you hadn't forgotten that the whole wheat tried too hard to be white. 

I don't get it because sometimes your peonies lay still like a fallen flamingo feather and all I want to do is pick it up and wave it through the air like it's the 4th of July and we found that pack of sparklers. The ones we weren't supposed have (and shouldn't have known how to light) but did anyways. I want to hold it until it burns my hand (it did on the 4th of July) and we have to admit that we were wrong. 

I don't get it because sometimes you sew the peonies together and it looked like when you pulled a loose thread from your camouflage shorts and it drew the fabric together briefly. You were scared but so was I because it was 8th grade and you told me you liked me. 

But then I do.

I get that it was before 10th grade. Before you became nothing more than a hallway acquaintance. Before she was the one who picked up the feathers and listened to flowers. Before I knew what jealousy felt like(It feels like green jello). 

That was before I was over you. 

It was also before I found out I'm not.