We used to go down to the oak tree.

We used to sit in the shade and talk about what colors the sunset would bring.

I used to brush and brush and brush my hair and spend my time reading and baking and playing games with Pascal. I used to paint everything I could reach with my brush. I used to hit you with a frying pan.

You used to roll your eyes when Pascal glared at you. You used to smolder me when you thought I would least expect it. You used to sneak things into your satchel that weren't yours.

We used to smile and pretend that we didn't notice how we were gradually drifting closer. We used to laugh and keep away from talking about anything that revealed our pasts.

I used to watch the floating lights from my window. I used to celebrate my birthday with cupcakes that I baked for myself. I used to share my closest feelings with Pascal.

You used to tease me about the world. You used to be scared of a horse with a sword. You used to pretend to get firewood instead of thinking about me.

We used to dance and spin and clap in the town square. We used to pull back at every arc of electricity that leaped from my skin to yours when we touched. We used to say we didn't care.

I used to tell Mother everything was all right (even when it wasn't). I used to listen to her tell me about who I was and who I was going to be and I took it to be true (even when it wasn't). I used to look at the floor when she yelled at me.

You used to have a dream that involved an island and a tan and a lot of money. You used to change the conversation so you wouldn't have to face your feelings. You used to stare at me when you thought I wasn't looking.

We used to sit far too close in that boat that took us to see the lights. We used to get closer and closer and closer until we were far too close to pull away. We used to pretend that we didn't want to kiss.

I used to be scared of the way you led me through Corona. I used to hold your hand to keep myself strong.

You used to lace our fingers and claim that it was normal for people to do that. You used to pull me into your side when people stepped too close to me.

We used to think that everything would stay the same. We used to think that we would stay the same.

I used to brush that strand of hair from your face before I kissed you. I used to laugh breathlessly when we kissed.

You used to rub my cheek with your thumb. You used to hold me tightly when I was terrified.

I used to have long hair. I used to be beautiful.

You used to steal things. You used to have a tangled past.

I used to think you were lying when you told me the guards were coming. I used to dismiss that with a laugh and pressing my lips to yours. You used to give in and crumble to the way we kissed. You used to smile when I fell asleep.

I used to fall asleep with you every night. You used to whisper promises in my ears until the sun came up. I used to scream and kick and cry when they came for you. You used to shout I love you when they took you away.

I used to love you. I still do.

We used to go down to the oak tree.

Now I just sit in the shade of your dangling body, having a conversation with myself about how dark the world is when the sunset comes and goes.