Esme Writes.

It was spring in Michigan
we were alright then.

We were still young enough to feel invincible
and had no clue it would be like it is now,
wishing it away like
winestains on bedsheets
and nightmares that reoccur
for weeks on end.

It was spring in Michigan
and no other spring would be like that one
and no other spring will be like the one right now
in California
where days
fade like photographs
left on the dashboard
of a car
in the spring,
in Michigan.