You miss the way they said your name the way the stars look like they were extra sprinkles on a cupcake.
Remember when they broke your heart over text message and for the next month your cellphone was a ticking grenade and you were stuck waiting for your phone to blow up saying that they regret it.
Sprinkles don’t taste like anything, but they sure are the raindrops on the side walk that make something about rainy days better then others.
Remember the way their lips tasted like heaven on a hell day just like how the sprinkles that tasted like nothing somehow made the cupcakes taste better.
Remember when they bought you a nine dollar bottle of sprinkles from the hospital gift shop when you were only allowed to eat ice cream after getting your tonsils out.
Remember the day you got a concussion in gym class and they walked you to the nurse and sat with you for and hour—you really thought they just wanted to get out of class.
Remember the day you got paired up as partners together and they told you their name, and even though you knew nothing but their name that deep feeling in your gut knew that something’s playing with fire sounds like a lot of fun.
Remember how them introducing them-self turned into this mess that you’re still trying to pick up after.
Cupcakes taste the same with or without sprinkles.
Now you wish you didn’t even know their name,
and that they were only the sprinkles that made life just a little more fun but tasted like nothing.