Where do they go?

They are in the first yellow rays of sunlight
dancing around your end table perfume bottles

They are in the purple letters of your name
written in borrowed sidewalk chalk
courtesy of a ponytailed neighbor with dimples

They are the sweet scent of an opened bag of cotton candy
left on the passenger's seat of your car-overnight

They are in the taste of my skin
between my shoulder blades
if you press your lips there tightly

The words I leave unspoken are everywhere
as are yours.

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