she remembers sitting on the back porch swing in autumn and watching the squirrels; she remembers how she mentioned she was cold and he held her hand. she remembers how she blushed and he told her she was beautiful, and how he tied a red string around her wrist to remind her of him.

she remembers sitting on the back porch swing in winter and how he said he had her christmas present. she remembers asking what it was and how he kissed her and told her merry christmas. she remembers how she tied the blue string around his wrist to remind him of her.

she remembers sitting on the back porch swing in spring and watching the flowers bloom. she remembers how he told her he loved her and she said she loved him. she remembers how he leaned down and plucked a daisy from the grass, then stuck it in her hair and told her she was beautiful again.

she remembers sitting on the back porch swing in summer and breathing in the hot air. she remembers how she laid her head in his lap and how he played with her hair. she remembers how he whispered sweet nothings into her ear and she smiled like the sun. she remembers the strings that he twisted together and tied to the swing perfectly.

she remembers sitting on the back porch swing in autumn and waiting for him. she remembers he showed up half an hour late and said he was sorry, he had to do something. she remembers squeezing his hand and whispering i love you, and how he smiled less than usual.

she remembers sitting on the back porch swing in winter and swinging her legs and wondering if he would show up. she remembers the mugs of hot chocolate, the steam billowing into nothingness as it turned dark at six o'clock, and him, who was supposed to hold her hand when she was cold. she remembers he didn't come.

she remembers sitting on the back porch swing in spring and watching him walk across the yard, leaving forever. she remembers everything, every breath of him, every moment; she cuts the string.