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rainy nights spent with your lovers' head upon your chest are the only time you can get them to calm down. they're usually wild with coarse and rough hair that hasn't been washed in an unholy amount of time. their calloused palm tickles your own when you can weave your fingers through theirs on a walk down a neon-lit street. when you ride their motorcycle they give you the only helmet, and despite your constant efforts to get them to buy a second helmet they won't. you don't know if it's because of a sweet oblivion or the fact that all good things end, just like this one will. the beginning is amazing. a strain comes across the middle of your relationship. and by the end you wish you had never met them. ten years later you don't hold resentment towards them. you fondly flip through the polaroids you collected with a smile. that was the best year of your life so you don't have it in you to feel anger. you tell your new partner that your forgotten lover taught you how to love, and you can only hope that you taught the same to them.