Ma mélange, un Aide-mémoire.

Can I try you on for a day? To see how well the spaces of you fill the spaces in me. To see how your skin feels against my skin. Or to see what it feels like when our noses collide in an awkward manner.

Can I try you on for a day? To feel the warmth of what it’s like on a winter day with your arms around me. Or to feel the cold sweat underneath your chin with my head tucked in underneath it during a summer heat wave.

Can I try you on for a day? And wear your body around mine like it’s the only blanket I’ll ever need. To uncover all the stories in your laughlines and connect all the constellations you hold inside your palms.

Can I try you on to keep? To fix the loose pieces of you when you get tattered and torn from way too much constant wear, from being my favorite, for being such an irreplaceable thing.

Because nothing has fit like the way you have, like the way I know you always will fit just right, somehow, on me.

I miss you so much, rainbow.

So can I have one more day with you, to try, to see, to feel, and to keep you by my side?